Clique: Sixth-Grade Summer
by Luv2Live Live2Luv
Summary: Massie's reign as Alpha is on hold, Alicia's mother is pregnant, Dylan might move to California, Kristen's jetting off to the Caribbean, and Claire is the only one with a steady boyfriend. What is this world coming to? IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED THAT YOU READ MY CLIQUE: SIXTH GRADE BOOKS BEFORE THIS.
1. The Clique

***SIX MONTHS LATER***

**Massie Block: **Her reign as OCD's first sixth-grade Alpha has come to an end, and all she wants to do for the summer is party with her NBFs: Alicia, Dylan, Kristen, and, yes, even Kuh-laire. But a surprise trip to France turns the tables on the Pretty Committee when they realize they can't manage for two entire months without their Alpha. Will they find a new one? Will Alicia step up to the plate? And what happens when Massie returns?

**Alicia Rivera: **Her mother is now so pregnant that the family can't even consider traveling to Spain. So she's stuck in the good old USA. But instead of fashion, fun, friends, flirting, and fancy food (the five F's in Seventeen magazine) with the Pretty Committee, she has to help with the baby... 24/7. So while her friends are enjoying long days, short nights, cute boys, and bikinis, she's enjoying department stores such as Burberry Baby and Ralph Lauren for Children. So the least she can do is buy herself something, right?

**Dylan Marvil: **Still at Vera's house. Her mom isn't even planning on returning to New York... ever. So Dylan's faced with a desicion: move to sunny California and start all over, or stay in Westchester without her family.

**Kristen Gregory: **There's no soccer or school in the summer, so other than some impromptu sessions with Belle, or some study dates with Layne, who Massie still doesn't know she hangs out with, she's free. But a few weeks in, she discovers that she has nothing to do with her life. So she hops on a surprise vacation with a surprise boy's family: round-trip to the Caribbean. But does she even want to return?

**Claire Lyons: **She's heading off to Orlando for three weeks to visit family, friends, and who can forget Universal Studios and Disney World? But when she returns, the Pretty Committee's in turmoil, and Cam is her rock. So she spends more and more time with The Boy With Two Different Eyes and less and less time with her friends. But what if the Pretty Committee turns on her? Can Cam protect her, or will she be kicked out faster than you can say _Layme_?

* * *

**Nice to see you all again! Here's the deal: I'm writing a book for the summer before seventh grade, which is obviously this one. I would say it'll be short, except I'm not sure it will be. So read happily, and know that the next book will be seventh grade.**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**


	2. School's Out!

**OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY  
LOBBY  
2:46 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

Massie stuck her Cartier watch in front of her friends' faces and began the countdown. "In ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three... two... one..."

_Bring!_ The last bell of the school year echoed through OCD, and a torrent of students flooded out of the school.

"Happy summer!" Claire couldn't resist calling out to Alexia and Maeve as they rushed out of the building.

They brought their hands to their ears and stuck out their thumbs and pinkies, indicating that they would call her. No one could ever harbor a grudge against Claire Lyons.

The Pretty Committee followed the rest of the girls out of OCD and jumped into the Range Rover.

"Where to, ladies?" he asked smoothly, turning up the air conditioner.

"The Westchester, of course," Massie told him. "And afterward, we're all going back to my house."

"It's Monday, though," Isaac pointed out.

"I know that. But the last day of school deserves a GLU sleepover."

"If you say so." Isaac tipped his hat at the brunette and sped off down the road.

**WESTCHESTER MALL  
ANN TAYLOR  
3:01 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

"Don't only adults shop here?" Claire wondered as they entered the chilly room.

"Uh, no," Alicia told her. "There's really cute stuff. It's just hidden in the back."

"And it's pretty cheap," added Massie for Kristen and Claire's benefit. "I got a skirt for $184 last week."

The blondes groaned in sync. But the Pretty Committee was too far buried in the store to hear them.

**THE RANGE ROVER  
BACKSEAT  
5:48 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

"Ehmagawd, I feel _so _rejuvenated." Alicia grinned as she hoisted five bags onto her lap: one from Georgina Goodman, two from Guess, and another two from Ann Taylor. "Shopping is my exercise."

Dylan laughed. "Same." She only had one bag, from Alice&Olivia, but it was stocked to the brim, mostly with hair accesories.

Massie slung a Calvin Klein sack that she'd purchased for $390 over her shoulder. It was stuffed with her findings, the majority of which were Miss Me jeans and Cole Haan boots.

"What do you need boots for?" Kristen scoffed. "It's summer."

"A girl _always_ needs boots." Massie pinched the tops of one pair and held hem up. "Aren't they ah-dorable?"

"Sure." Kristen sank back in her seat. The only thing she had was a tiny satchel from YSL, which held a tin of eyeshadow.

Claire hadn't bought anything except a slice of pepperoni from the Pizza Hut counter in the food court. She stumbled out after the girls, then disappeared into the guesthouse, where she retrieved a Little Mermaid sleeping bag and a duffle full of pajamas, hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, ponytail holders, and neutral makeup. Then she ran up to Massie's room.

The girls were already wearing PJ's, and they were grouped around a tin of sushi that Inez must have brought up while she was gone.

"Finally, you're here," Massie remarked. "I-"

"Massie?" Inez poked her head into the room. "Your mother wants to see you."

**BLOCK ESTATE  
MASTER BEDROOM  
6:00 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

"Mom?" Massie knocked on the door, then stepped into the room without waiting for a response.

"I have something to tell you, Massie. Come here." She beckoned to her daughter, who approached. "Don't worry; it's good news."

She sat down next to Kendra and looked up. "What?"

"We're going to France."

"Eee!" Massie bounced up and down on the bedspread, which was rumpling under her butt. "When are we leaving?"

"In two days. And we're staying with family for the entire summer."

**BLOCK ESTATE  
MASSIE'S ROOM  
6:07 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

Massie couldn't keep the grin off her face as she entered the room. "Guys, guess what?! We're going to France."

"Lucky." Kristen was still bitter.

"But who am I going to complain to about the baby?" Alicia moaned.

"Kuh-laire?" Massie suggested. "She has a brother."

Claire stuck out her tongue.

"So, ready for Gossip Points?" asked Dylan.

"Wait." Everyone glanced at Alicia, who normally wanted to gossip more than anyone. "I think we should update each other on our summers, you know? Like, what's everyone doing?"

"Good idea." Claire air-clapped. "'K, so I'm going to Orlando." She threw on a huge smile, but no one applauded. Her face fell.

"It's alright, Kuh-laire," Dylan assured her. "Everyone has to visit their family. It's nawt your fault yours live in Orlando."

She sighed. She couldn't tell the Pretty Committee that she loved it there without being laughed at, which had been happening way too much lately.

"So I was _supposed_ to go to Spain, but Mom wants help with the baby." She made a face.

"I'll do anything I can," Kristen offered. "It's nawt like I have anything better to do."

"Me too." Dylan shrugged.

"Thanks!" Alicia beamed. "Gossip?"

"Sure."

**BLOCK ESTATE  
MASSIE'S ROOM  
6:21 PM  
JUNE 25, 2013**

_But girls, they want to have fun.  
Oh girls, just want to have  
(That's all they really want!)  
Some fun_

"D, you're ringing." Massie glanced toward the iPhone sitting next to the redhead.

She picked up and immediately shushed everybody. "Hey, Mom, what's up?"

There was a few minutes of chattering on the other end. When she finally hung up, her face was blanched. The noise died down, and all the girls stared at their friend. "I-I." She couldn't get it out. "My mom's nawt moving back."

"But we knew that." Alicia tilted her head. Massie smacked her.

Dylan looked right at the Beta as she said the last word. "Ever."


	3. Hold It Together

**Hey hey guys! Okay, so there's this girl named Peyton. She writes amazing stories, and if you're one of those people who aren't seeing them, you are missing out in a big way. So go to the profile of yellow and green sunsets and check her stories out. And don't forget to favorite, follow, and review, review, review! It's worth it!**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

* * *

**BLOCK ESTATE  
MASSIE'S ROOM  
4:33 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

Yeah, Massie was excited to go to France, but as she let it sink in, she realized she was going to miss so much. What if her friends met boys? What if Alicia's brother or sister was born and she missed it? What if Dylan moved to California and she didn't get to say goodbye? What if Kristen left with her mother? What if Claire liked Orlando so much that she never came back? What if the girls found a new Alpha? And more importantly, what did that say about _her_ as an Alpha?

This was why she'd put off packing until the last minute. She'd half-heartedly hoped her parents would change their minds and decide they wanted to stay in Westchester. But they hadn't, and now she was forced to arise in the wee hours of morning to fill her suitcases.

She yanked a Miu Miu case out of the closet. An Anne Klein duffel followed it, and then came two carry-ons: one Guess, one Victoria's Secret. Then came another suitcase, this one Louis Vuitton. A Gucci bag was pulled out. Last was a Victoria Beckham metallic mini-case.

She filled the Miu Miu first: tops and tanks. The Anne Klein was stuffed with bathing suits and cover-ups. The Guess carry-on was for DVDs she wanted to watch on the plane, music she wanted to listen too, books she wanted to read, and handheld games she wanted to play. Just for fun, she added a deck of cards. The tiny Victoria's Secret was for her Fendi clutch, which contained her money and credit cards. It also held some hard candy, gum, and her phone, an absolute necessity. She patted the hidden side pocket which held the device to check that it was there. It was. The Louis Vuitton was for jeans, shorts, leggings, and skirts, which she folded with plastic between them, using a trick Kendra had taught her. The Gucci was needed for shoes and socks, and the Victoria Beckham held makeup, hair things, shampoo, conditioner, detangler, straightener, curling iron, and crimper.

It was almost 6:00 by the time she looked up. Massaging her back, she snapped the Anne Klein closed and got to her feet, rubbing her eyes. She cast a look of longing toward her bed, which Inez must have made sometime while she was deep in her closet, because she hadn't noticed. Then she hauled her bags to the luggage cart William had left in the hallway for her. She wheeled it into the elevator, pressed the button marked **1**, and watched the doors close.

When she got downstairs, she figured that most of the household wouldn't be awake, but there was her mother, her father, Inez, Isaac, and the chef, whose name she always forgot. "Hello!" She beauty-queen waved.

"Honey, you aren't _dressed_?" Kendra exclaimed, braiding her hair. "We have to leave in twenty minutes."

"What?!" She rushed into the elevator, and when the doors opened, she ran into her room, slammed the door, and burst into a whirlwind of activity.

She had been so busy the day before, what with the sleepover extending into the afternoon, then with catching up with everyone via texting for two hours, then with making sure she got to bed early because she had to wake up at such an ungodly hour, that she hadn't even planned her outfit. And she was paying for it. So instead of finding an amazing first-impression outfit that was cute, comfy, and Francey all at the same time, she was forced to dig out a purple Donna Karan sweatshirt, which she paired with BeBe dark wash skinny jeans and tall chestnut Uggs. She brushed on mascara, blush, and lipgloss. She figured if she was ever going to use the Skye-flavored one, this was the day.

She threw her hair into a messy bun, opened her laptop, tapped in her password, and had FaceTime going at the speed of light. "Guys!" she screamed, once she'd invited them all. "Wake up!"

Dylan ran a hand over her face. "We're awake, Mass. But it's really early."

"Well, if you don't want to say goodbye, you don't have to," she retorted.

"Bye." Her screen flickered off. Her voice came through Massie's speakers. "Call me when you get there."

"See ya, Mass." Alicia smiled. No one knew that inside she was praying, just like a desperate older sister, which she was about to be, 'Put me in charge! Make me Alpha! Put me in charge!' Massie didn't.

"See ya, Leesh. Send me a picture of the baby." She sighed.

"Bye, Mass," offered Kristen. "Enjoy France." She sighed too, but nobody noticed.

"Have fun!" a bubbly voice shouted from just outside her door. Claire. At least _someone _cared enough to bid her farewell personally.

She opened it and peered out.

"Surprise!"

The entire Pretty Committee was there. Alicia and Dylan were both clutching iPads, Kristen was holding her mini laptop, and Claire had been using Judi's iPhone. "Surprise!" they shouted again.

"Guys!" A huge smile spread across her face. "Listen, I'd love to chat for a little while, except that we're leaving, like, right now."

"We know," Claire told her. "We just wanted to see you off."

She hugged them all, air-kissed their cheeks, and held a last-minute ratings session, to give herself a grounded memory of her best friends.

She grabbed the hairbrush Alicia had been running through her already perfect locks and announced, "Alicia is sporting a Dolce&Gabbana twill halter top with a drawstring hem over black jean shorts. On her feet are white Michael Kors sandals. You are a 9.4."

"Dylan has on a white muscle tee from... _Aeropostale_?" Dylan blushed. "Anyway, the shirt is loosely tucked into royal blue jean shorts from... _H&M_? Gawd, Dyl, what is up with you? And on her feet are _Converse_? Like _Kuh-laire_?" Now the redhead and the blonde blushed. "At least the silver bangles on her wrist are designer. Okay, overlooking the brands, I give you a 9.4."

"Kristen is wearing a cream-colored leather Burberry jacket with dark wash Levis. On her feet are studded combat boots. She is carrying a Chanel bag with a gold chain. In her ears are black-and-gold disc drop earrings. I give you a 9.5."

"Kuh-laire is attired in a navy knit top that appears to be Dior. Under it is a white tank, and under _that _is a pair of gray jeans. To top it off, she has on navy ballet flats by Oscar di La Renta and a silver ring with lettering in French to celebrate my leaving, of course. She is also carrying a multi-colored tote that I know was in the Lord&Taylor catalogue. 9.7. Now, what does the ring say? Maybe that could boost your score even more." The girls circled their Alpha as she slid the blonde's ring off her finger and turned it over. "Meilleurs amis." She looked up at the girls. "Which translates to best friends." She smiled at Claire, who wordlessly pulled a box out of her bag and handed it to the brunette, who opened it. "Meilleurs amis," she repeated, pushing the ring onto her own finger. "Best friends. You have officially earned a 9.9."

"What would make me a 10?" she asked shyly.

"A huge hug." Massie opened her arms, and Claire fell into them.

**BLOCK ESTATE  
MASSIE'S ROOM  
6:28 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

The Blocks had departed a few minutes ago, and Massie's bedroom was Claire's for the summer. She'd been given permission, along with Kristen, to use whatever she found, on a you-break/tear/stain/ruin/-it-you-pay-it deal. She was rummaging through Massie's closet, not looking at the clothing so much as feeling it, touching it. She already missed Massie.

She raked a hand through her straight blonde hair and admired her reflection. She was leaving for Orlando tomorrow, but unlike Massie, she was packed, prepared, and ready to go. The only thing she hadn't done was choose an outfit. She wanted to show up in something designer. She decided on a pink, blue, and red watercolor-print Charlotte Russe tank with black leggings. On her feet were deliciously high indigo Blahniks. A mini Agnes B. bag that matched the shoes made her feel like an entirely new Claire. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it.

Her phone buzzed.

**INDIAQT: Heard ur heading 2 Orlando.  
CLAIREBEAR: U heard right.  
INMANDYLANDY: Omigod, seriously? Ur coming to visit?!**

She fought the urge to tell her that 'Ehmagawd' was the word she should be using. Then she remembered that Mandy obviously wasn't from New York.

**CLAIREBEAR: Yup ;).  
SWEETHEARTSARAH: Can't w8!  
CLAIREBEAR: C u all 2morrow!**

She was beginning to view her friends as a project. It would be easy to convert them into designer showcases. A little makeup here, some straightening there, no bronzer needed, all done. They could be the coolest girls in Orlando.

Clearly, Massie was rubbing off on her.

But was that a good thing?

**RIVERA MANSION  
ALICIA'S ROOM  
8:33 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

"Dylan, Dylan, listen, I gotta go." She hung up in the middle of the conversation, then turned toward her closet. She had a breakfast date with Josh. They were planning on grabbing a bagel at Starbucks, then taking a walk in the park. And just like her first date, she had nothing to wear. She bowed her head and began searching through her closet.

**WANG HOUSE  
DYLAN'S ROOM  
****8:37** **AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

All Dylan wanted to do was fall back into bed, but her stupid brain wouldn't let her. Instead, it insisted on listing everything wrong with her life. Alicia and _Claire_ had a boyfriend, and she didn't. She was fat. And, last but not least, she lived in Westchester and her family lived in California. Beautiful.

She pulled on a reddish-orange Prada bikini that matched her hair too well to clash with it. Over it she wore a denim tube dress by Gucci and slung a woven brown-leather belt around the waist. Then she straightened her hair and added an identical sunhat, mini-clutch and clogs. She'd always done her best thinking at the beach.

**PINEWOOD APARTMENTS  
KRISTEN'S ROOM  
9:44 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

'I'm bored' were words that were not allowed in the Gregory residence. But right now, she wanted to do anything other than lie around in her room thinking about not having anything to do. She couldn't believe she was part of the most popular clique in the sixth grade and yet she still had nobody to hang out with. Maybe she could go baby-shopping with Alicia.

**SEXYSPORTSBABE: Hey, Leesh, r u going shopping 4 the baby 2day?  
HOLAGURRL: Maybe l8er. Y?  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Just wanted 2 know if i could help.  
HOLAGURRL: Yeah, u can help. Hold on, i'll ask Mom.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: K.  
HOLAGURRL: We're going to the Westchester somewhere around noon. We'll pick u up, K? But I really hav 2 go; Josh is probs waiting outside asking himself what the hell happened 2 me.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: LOL. Hav fun!  
HOLAGURRL: Thx!**

After a quick glance at the clock, Kristen sank defeatedly onto her bed. Maybe Claire was free? Trying not to feel desperate, she texted her.

**SEXYSPORTSBABE: Hey, Kuh-laire.  
CLAIREBEAR: Hey Kris!  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: What r u up 2?  
CLAIREBEAR: Chilling. Being forced 2 help my bro pack cuz he left it all until the last min.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: U wanna hang out?  
CLAIREBEAR: Sure. What do u want 2 do?  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Uh, shop?  
CLAIREBEAR: Nah. i told Leesh i'd help her w/ the baby at 12.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Me 2. Hey, can I come over? We can watch a movie in the Blocks' screening room, and Leesh can pick both of us up there.  
CLAIREBEAR: That works.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Can u pick me up at the Block Estate 4 shopping?  
HOLAGURRL: Sure. Bye.**

Kristen danced out of the room. "Mom!"

"Yes?"

"Can you drive me over to Massie's?"

"I thought she left," Marsha mused. She never missed a thing.

"Yeah, but Kuh-laire lives there, and we're gonna hang out."

"I can't wait until you get your license," she muttered, grabbing her keys from the hook above the door.

When they got there, Claire was waiting at the front door. "You can only get to the screening room around back," she explained.

"Gotcha." Kristen smirked. "K, Mom, bye."

"Bye, sweetie. When should I pick you up?"

"Alicia will drop me off around fourish, probably. I'll call you if it takes longer."

"What's this about Alicia now?"

"We're going shopping for the baby at the Westchester Mall."

"What baby?"

"Her mom's pregnant."

"Oh! Should I congratulate her?"

"If you want. When she drops me off, you can come out and talk to her."

"Alright." She waggled her fingers and got back into her dark green Subaru. She lowered the window. "Have fun!"

**BLOCK ESTATE  
FRONT PORCH  
11:58 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

"Ehmagawd, that movie was amazing," Claire sigh-gushed.

"It was," Kristen agreed. It had taken them about an hour to decide which movie to see as they sorted through Massie's vast collection. When they'd finished looking through it all, they hadn't had much time left, so they'd put on Netflix and found a movie that Claire vaguely remembered Sarah recommending before she left called Teen Spirit.

Because it was a total cliche about a popular girl trying to help a social pariah become cool to even out her karma, Kristen had thought she'd hate it. But there were some cool twists, and by the end, she'd found herself crying just as hard as Claire.

"Guys!" A honk filled the quiet air. "Come on!" Alicia was yelling out the back window.

The girls jumped in next to their friend, and they raced toward the Westchester Mall.

**FLIGHT 530  
FIRST CLASS  
6:45 AM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

"Massie, sweetheart, wake up," Kendra cajoled, gently shaking her daughter's shoulder.

"Mmph?" She twitched in her seat.

"Massie, wake up!" She tickled her stomach.

Massie shot up. "Are we here already?"

"Almost," Kendra replied. "But I want you to see the city. Go on, look."

Massie didn't have the window seat (she was sandwiched between Kendra and William), so she had to lean over her mother to see. But when she did, it almost took her breath away. "Ehmagawd," she whispered. Then she remembered.

**MASSIEKUR: Guys! Urgent!**

"No phone!" Kendra cried.

Massie leaned forward and hunched over the electronic so her mom couldn't snatch it.

**HOLAGURRL: What? Kristen, Kuh-laire and i are trying 2 shop.  
BIGREDHEAD: At beach ogling cute guys. What do u want?  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: What?  
CLAIREBEAR: Yeah, Mass?  
MASSIEKUR: Since we're all splitting up, every1 we meet needs 2 know we're from New York and part of the Pretty Committee. So we're all going 2 talk in New York accents, at least 4 the summer.  
HOLAGURRL: We already do.  
MASSIEKUR: Yeah, but more. Like, Gawd, nawt, hawt, awf, awl, awn, ah-mazing, ah-dorable, ahbviously, Kuh-laire, ehma-whatever, etc. And don't 4get LBR, GLU, HART...  
BIGREDHEAD: Gotcha. We will. Can we go?  
CLAIREBEAR: Wait, what's HART stand 4?  
MASSIEKUR: It's 4 any boy u might like. It's a checklist. Hawt, Alpha, Rich, Toned. Make sense?  
BIGREDHEAD: Yeah.  
MASSIEKUR: O, and one last thing. Don't 4get to always refer 2 each other in nicknames: Mass, Leesh, Dyl, Kris, and Kuh-laire. It makes other peeps feel left out. ;)  
HOLAGURRL: Done.  
BIGREDHEAD: Done.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: Done.  
CLAIREBEAR: Done.  
MASSIEKUR: And done.**

The second she sat up, Kendra grabbed the iPhone and dropped it into her never-ending Kate Spade purse.

"Mo-om!" she whined, "I need that! I can't get of-, uh, awf a plane in France without my phone!"

"Too bad," Kendra decreed firmly, zipping the phone into a side compartment that had an honest-to-God _padlock. _Just in case anyone stole the bag, it would be harder to get the valuables.

"But-" Massie sighed and didn't bother. She picked up her carry-ons and dug in the Victoria's Secret for a pack of Trident, which she discovered half-squashed under her Fendi. Amazing.

**WESTCHESTER MALL  
RALPH LAUREN  
12:49 PM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

"I thought we were shopping for the baby," Kristen pointed out.

"I'm sick of the baby," Alicia countered.

Claire scratched her forehead. "We weren't even looking for an hour."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Kristen asked.

Alicia shrugged. "Only my mom knows, and she's nawt telling. That's why she gets to do clothing while we get to find "unisex-friendly bedspreads.""

"How 'bout we take turns?" Kristen proposed. "Kuh-laire and I will take first shift, then you and Kuh-laire, then me and you. And the other person can shop."

"That works." Claire nodded. "And each shift can be twenty minutes long."

"Half-an-hour," Alicia returned.

"Done."

"Done."

"And done."

**MASSACHUSETTS  
CAPE COD  
2:08 PM  
JUNE 27, 2013**

Dylan had made Lloyd drop her off at the ferry, which took her to Cape Cod, with instructions to be back at the stop no later than seven. She still had a few hours at the beach, though, so she lay under the baking sun, wishing she would tan but knowing she was going to become a lobster tonight. She didn't care.

She was still at a dead end. If she knew no one's feelings would be hurt, she'd stay in Westchester, hands down. But the facts were that Merri-Lee would be devastated that her daughter chose friends over family. Merri-Lee moved around so much that she didn't understand that it wasn't just the Pretty Committee that kept Dylan tied down. It was the feeling of being home.

Dylan knew Westchester, at least _her_ part of Westchester, like the back of her hand. She was comfortable here.

What she also knew was that home is where the heart is. So, in all honesty, was her heart in the place she grew up?

Or was it in sunny Hollywood with her family?

Can a heart be in two places at once?


	4. Really?

**ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT  
GATE 93  
9:26 AM  
JUNE 29, 2013**

The first things Claire noticed when she dismounted the plane were the palm trees. They were everywhere, in pots scattered across the airport, outside, sprouting from the ground, on the little buttons the staff were wearing. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp scent of healthy green leaves.

"It's good to be home," Judi sighed, grinning. No one heard her.

Todd had run off with Claire's loaner carry-on: a sky-blue Coach number made of real, expensive leather. So she'd snatched the pillow her mother had brought for the plane and sprinted after him, ready to bop him one on the head.

Jay was already strolling off toward the conveyor belt to collect the rest of their luggage, and the kids still hadn't returned.

Judi sighed again, but more out of annoyance than nonstalgia. She wasn't particularly worried about her children, who knew the airport like the back of their hands, as they were here all the time for Sunday School community service. But she was a little ticked off. This was supposed to be a family vacation for the Lyons to enjoy together. And already they had split up.

She followed her husband toward the Baggage Carousel. In one hand, she carried her no-name multi-colored purse; with the other, she wiped her sweaty forehead. She passed Claire and Todd, who both ignored her as they dashed past, one stomping on her foot, another accidentally punching her in the back. That set her off. "Claire Stacey Lyons! Todd Lucas Lyons! Get back here!" she roared, attracting more than a few bemused stares.

Guiltily, they turned around. Todd was still hopping from one foot to the other, eager to continue the chase.

On the other hand, Claire's face burned so red she could feel it. She was supposed to be a mature 11-year-old, not a bratty little baby who ran after her younger brother through an airport. She couldn't even imagine what Massie would say if she ever found out about this. "Sorry," she mumured, standing up straighter.

"You should be," Judi reprimanded sternly. "Todd?"

"Sure, Mom, whatever," he mumbled, still focusing on holding the bag out of his sister's reach.

"Todd!"

"I said sure!"

"That wasn't what I asked. I am expecting an apology!" She was fighting to keep her voice down, but she knew that people were wondering what was going on.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jay standing there with four bags in each hand, obviously wondering what had gone down while he had been absent. She ignored him.

"Sorry, Mom." Then there was a loud thwack.

Claire squealed, gripping her thigh. She advanced three steps toward Todd and _smacked_ him. The sound rang through the terminal. His hand flew to his cheek as he began to cry.

"What is _happening_ here?" Jay demanded, setting the suitcases on the floor.

"Todd took my bag and made me run after him all over the place to get it back! In _heels_! And then he _hit_ me with it!" she whined.

"She _slapped me_!" Todd countered.

"Only cuz you hit me!"

"Guys!" Jay placed a comforting hand on each of their shoulders. They glanced up. "This is going to be a fun trip, okay? Relax, breathe, understood? As soon as we get to our resort, you can go visit your friends, alright, honey?" He looked at Claire. "And Todd, I told you we could go to Disney for a half day. And the sooner we get home, the more time we can spend there."

"I'm too old for Disney," he pouted.

"Oh, come on now," Jay pleaded. "You don't want to go on Space Mountain? And Tower of Terror? I think you're old enough!" he sang.

"Maybe." A small smile tugged at his lips as he brushed his dark hair away from his eyes.

"Let's go already," Claire said sourly, rolling her eyes. She averted her gaze from Todd as she marched out the door toward the rental car facility, followed by the rest of her family.

She still wasn't talking to her family by the time they retrieved their shiny white Toyota Prius. So she was beyond grateful when her phone lit up and choked out For The Girls by Auburn.

**MASSIEKUR: So how's OrlandEW?  
CLAIREBEAR: Nawt ah-mazing, but we just got here. What about France?  
****MASSIEKUR: Gr8! i got 2 meet my baby cousin 4 the first time, and my aunt who we're staying w/ is uber-nice. What's wrong w/ OrlandEW?  
CLAIREBEAR: It's definitely OrlandEW. i got in a huge fight w/ my bro the second we got awf the plane, and now every1's pissed at each other and no1's talking. U don't know how glad i waz that u texted.  
MASSIEKUR: Ur welcome, then. And good job w/ the New York accent.  
CLAIREBEAR: That's the first compliment ne1's given me all day. Thx.  
MASSIEKUR: My pleasure, girlie. C ya!**

"Who was that?" Judi glared at Claire's phone.

"Mass," she responded.

"I'm so glad you girls finally became friends. You just have so much to offer each other. You know, because at first I wasn't sure, but now-"

"Yeah, Mom, I get it. Mass is cool and popular and pretty, and I'm just average." The anger she'd felt when they'd first moved to Westchester came spilling out. "So, yeah, how could Little Miss Boring be friends with Miss Supreme Universe, Massie Elizabeth Block?" She smirked and crossed her arms.

"Oh, sweetie, you know that wasn't what I meant!" Judi cried.

"So what did you mean?"

Judi looked down.

"Thought so." She didn't say anything more until they arrived at the house and she could retreat to her room.

**WANG HOUSE  
DYLAN'S ROOM  
10:05 AM  
JUNE 29, 2013**

The bright, sunny day outside didn't match Dylan's mood in the slightest. In her mind, it should be pouring and freezing, with the wind whipping through the trees. Maybe even a power outage.

An outbreak of stress acne had formed on her face from all the chocolate she was eating, and her red hair was disheveled and mussed, as she hadn't brushed it at all yesterday. She'd spent most of the time since Massie left pondering about what to do with her life.

And she still wasn't any closer to figuring out where she wanted to live. Her forehead crinkled in sadness and confusion as tears dripped from her eyes. She thought of Jaime, Merri-Lee, even Ryan, and she smiled forlornly. In that second, she knew she wanted to live in California.

But the next minute, she thought of the Pretty Committee, and OCD, and the Marvil Manor and she knew in her heart that she just couldn't leave them. Her stomach ached if she even considered it.

Dylan glanced in the mirror. Her face was blotchy and red, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Her throat was sore, her head was pounding, and her whole body hurt.

'If Mom loved me, she wouldn't force me to make a decision like this,' she couldn't help thinking, although she knew it wasn't true.

She had to stop this.

**BODY ALIVE DANCE STUDIO  
STUDIO  
10:29 AM  
JUNE 29, 2013**

"Okay, girls," Mrs. Farson announced. "Our recital is next week, and then we have auditions for seventh grade classes. Remember, you can either make beginner, intermediate, or advanced. I know you can all get into advanced as long as you try your best. Okay?"

"Yes, Mrs. Farson." The class, as usual, sounded like one voice with a slight echo.

"Okay, Dylan, please come up."

The Gamma adjusted her shamrock-green tank and stepped up to head the class.

Alicia glowered. She knew she was the best dancer here. Dylan shouldn't be captain just because she got the song. They should have held fair tryouts, as they were supposed to. But no one wanted to disrespect Merri-Lee Marvil. She sighed. At least she had front rank.

She dropped to her knees and scrutinized the rest of the class using the mirror in front. There was Dylan, then Alicia, Bianca, and a girl named Meena, one of Layne's close friends who also happened to be an extraordinary dancer. The next row was made up of five girls: Olivia Ryan, Jessica, Melina, Marie, and Zara Warren. The last one had seven: Crystal, Samantha, Brianne, Kiara, Kay, Nanci, and Chrissy.

All too soon, the music started playing.

_I'm... putting my defenses up_

On putting, the back row got up, on defenses, the middle row stood, and on up, her line shot to their feet and posed. On the beat after the line, Dylan rose. The class went through the rest of the song, and were applauded by their teacher at the end.

"That was perfect!" Mrs. Farson complimented. "And you know that never comes out of my mouth." They nodded. "So here's a treat." She slid back the curtain hanging at the back of the studio. "These are your costumes."

"Eee!" the girls screamed, rushing toward her. Mrs. Farson held a hand up, and they skidded to a stop.

"One at a time," she pronounced. "Dylan first."

Cautiously, she stepped up. Mrs. Farson whipped her outfit out.

Dylan's hands flew to her mouth.

She had been awarded with a black minidress. It had a loose tulle skirt down to her knees and a tight bodice with spaghetti straps. Her feet were bare, but she had OPI polish to wear. It matched the dress perfectly. For her hair, there was a coordinating bow. In her ears were onyx studs. "It's ah-mazing." And thinning.

"Good. For the first row..." Navy dress, sapphire studs. "Second..." Blue, lapis. "Third..." Sky blue, aquamarine.

"There're two things the entire class has to agree on," Mrs. Farson announced. "First, hair styles. Second, alternate captain." Alicia gasped.

"For hair... Dylan, you want to start us off?"

"What about half-up with the bow over the ponytail for them, and I could have a high ponytail with the bow over the holder?"

"That's good. Problems, girls?"

No one.

"Okay, co-captain. This is up to Dylan. Tonight, I will give you tapes of her performance and you will learn it. Tomorrow's class will be auditions."

"What does a co-captain do?" Olivia wondered.

"Takes over if the captain is hurt. Like second-in-command."

"Oh, okay."

Alicia's ears rang. She didn't want to be Dylan's "second-in-command." She wanted to be in charge. She was the best dancer here, and she was going to prove it.

**WESTCHESTER MALL  
GUCCI  
10:53 AM  
JUNE 29, 2013**

Kristen had finally convinced her mother to drop her off at the Westchester on her own. Well, sort of. Mrs. Gregory would stay and shop for herself while Kristen, armed with $45, could pretend to buy out the designer stores, like Massie, Alicia, and Dylan always did.

She was standing amid a row of $100 crop tops when she noticed the boy through the glass window. She fumbled with her Target wallet as she raced toward the entrance. When she was within sight of him, she slowed to a walk, threw on a casual smirk, and stepped outside, praying to God her hair looked okay.

She knew from past experience that if she over-analyzed any situation, she'd completely clam up. So she contented herself with trying to remember his name. What had Claire said? Kemp something, right? Kemp Harley? Hurley? God, she had no clue.

She strutted up to him, flipped a wavy piece of hair out of her face, and grinned. "Hey."

He turned, waving for his father to walk off without him. "Do I know you?" he asked without any pretense.

"Um, ish." Um, ish? What the hell? "Don't you go to Briarwood?"

"Yeah." Now he looked downright wary. She must sound like some stalker.

"I saw you the other day. My friends and I were talking to Cam Fisher and _his _friends. And you were standing with another boy."

"Um, so you had to say hi to me because you saw me at Briarwood?"

"I just thought it was common courtesy," she shot back. "I wasn't trying to start anything." Even though she was.

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up and backed away, pulling up his jean shorts as he did so. "Look, I'll, uh, see you around, I guess, K?"

"Sure. Oh, and by the way, I'm Kristen Gregory." She smiled.

"Kemp Hurley." He forced a grin and jogged off.

She slapped herself on the wrist. Kristen Gregory, who read three years ahead of her grade level, Kristen Gregory, who could solve an Algebra 2 problem without breaking a sweat, Kristen Gregory, who won her school's spelling bee every year, Kristen Gregory, who everyone agreed had such a way with words, had entirely frozen up over one petty boy.

**PARIS  
AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
5:00 PM  
JUNE 29, 2013**

Massie still wasn't over her jet lag. For the past two days, while her parents attended charity bashes and dinner parties, she'd done almost nothing, instead opting to lie around in bed and text her friends.

But now, her Aunt Jean was having a welcome dinner for the Blocks, and she knew she had to find something at least semi-decent to wear. France, especially Paris, was different than Westchester. France was one of the fashion capitals of the world. She had to look good.

She vaguely remembered two of her many cousins from the one time they'd come to America when she was nine. Although they were two years younger than her, they'd dressed like models. She could recall exactly what she'd been wearing: a flouncy hot pink Justice skirt and a gray tank top with black flats: 100% Ahnna-approved. The seven-year-old twin cousins, on the other hand, had been decked out in matching lace Versace tops with dark wash jeans and cute little Jimmy Choo sandals that had somehow lengthened their legs. Their hair had been up in side ponytails with floppy bows. Even now, Massie glowered whenever she thought about the first and so far only time they'd met.

She searched through her closet. What did children _wear_ to French dinner parties?

Eventually, she decided on a pale purple Tory Burch pencil skirt with a smart white cropped jacket and white Michael Kors heels. She side-parted her hair, snapped gold hoops into her ears, and painted her nails with Golden Nuggets. She didn't know whether it was right or wrong for France, but it was the best she had.


	5. Screw It

**Hey guys! After this week, I will officially be on a month-long hiatus. I'm going to Europe for three weeks, and then school starts. So you might get one more chapter this week, but maybe not. See you in a few weeks!**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

* * *

**PARIS  
AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
9:18 AM  
JUNE 30, 2013**

"Le temps d'aller!" Kendra announced, ever-chipper.

"What?" Massie snapped, scowling. "Could you puh-lease speak _English_?"

"I said, it's time to go. We don't want to be late."

"How 'bout you guys just go without me? I think I'm gonna catch up awn some sleep." She made to take her hair down from her artfully messy bun. It wasn't as good as something Jakkob would do, but she had to make ends meet some way.

"No." Kendra snatched her arm. "Why did you beg to come to France all year if all you wanted to do was lie around in bed?"

"I dunno. Let's go back, then. Whatevs."

"No!" Kendra exclaimed again. "Let's _go_, Massie!" She yanked on her daughter's arm like an overexcited toddler, although it was clear in her grip that she was a very annoyed mother. Her sharp, perfectly filed nails dug into Massie's soft skin, drawing tiny dots of blood.

"Mom!" Massie spun out of her mother's grip and gestured up and down her body. It seemingly dawned on Kendra for the first time what the brunette was wearing. "Do I look ready?"

"Not at all." Kendra's pale gold eyebrows lowered, lending a ferocious glare to her normally kind face. "You have five minutes."

Massie shook her head and tried to refrain from rubbing her eyes. Then she slammed the door, ignoring how it rattled on its hinges, stripped out of her lightweight plaid pajama pants and blue tank, and once again began searching through her closet.

The Blocks were going sight-seeing today, planning on spending most of their time at the Ifle Tower, then eating lunch at some extrememely fancy four-star restaurant that Massie had already forgotten the name of. Her aunt Jean's husband, André, had offered in an absolutely charming (or it would have been, if Massie was a bit more awake) French accent to show them around, but he had to get to work at two, which meant if they wanted to experience everything they'd wanted to today, they'd have to do it now.

She finally decided on a pleated white Marc Jacobs skirt with a gold tube top and shimmering Louboutin gladiators. To add a touch of modesty, she threw a cashmere cardigan over her shoulders and grabbed a golden Victoria's Secret clutch. After swiping her lips with some CoverGirl lip gloss and applying a light coat of mascara to her lashes, she was as ready as she was going to get.

**ORLANDO  
UNIVERSAL STUDIOS  
3:34 PM  
JUNE 30, 2013**

"I can't do anymore rides," Sarah whined, rubbing her slightly plump stomach. She brushed a platinum-blonde corkscrew curl off her forehead and snapped a ponytail holder off her wrist so she could tie her hair back.

"We just started," Mandy contradicted. "Was Wevenge of the Mummy too scawy for itty-bitty Sawah?" she mocked in a baby voice.

"No! I just don't feel so good. I'm kinda nauseous. I think I ate too much." As she spoke, she lifted yet another handful of popcorn to her mouth.

Claire yanked the bag away, causing most of it to spill onto the concrete. "I vote-"

"Let's do Transformers 3D!" Todd said, grinning.

"Todd!" Claire stomped her foot. "No one cares what you want to do. The only reason we dragged you along is because you have no friends to hang out with."

His eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Oh, it's okay, sweetheart!" Sari opened her arms for a hug, and when Todd appeared not to notice her, she gave him an awkward pat on the back and moved away.

"Why can't we ever do what _I _want to do?" he demanded.

"We only went on two rides!" Claire told him disparagingly. "We're taking turns choosing what to do. See, now it's my turn."

"Well, I want it to be _my_ turn."

"Todd!" she shouted. "Stawp acting like a baby!"

"Stawp?" Sarah echo-giggled, her nausea apparently forgotten. "What does _stawp_ mean?"

"Stop, okay? It means _stop_!"

"So why'd you say stawp?"

"Just cuz, alright?!"

"Yeah, and while we're all asking questions," Mandy added, "what's with all the designer stuff?"

"I live in Westchester now," she explained slowly.

"So?"

"Ugh! Come awn, let's just go."

"Where?" asked Sarah.

"I don't care!" Through all of this, Todd had continued whining, and Claire was at her wit's end. "You can pick, okay?"

"Transformers!" he selected gleefully, running off in the direction of the ride.

Her friends followed him, laughing, leaving Claire standing in the middle of her favorite amusement park in the world, without anyone, feeling utterly and totally lost.

**WESTCHESTER MALL  
VERSACE  
4:04 PM  
JUNE 30, 2013**

"You like?" Dylan wondered, sticking out her A-cups so they appeared to burst out of the too-tight baby-doll tee she was sporting.

"No," Kristen told her decisively. "You need, like, two sizes bigger."

"Why?" Dylan sob-pouted. "You think I'm fat?"

"No! But look at yourself." Kristen guided the redhead over to a mirror.

Although she was still upset, Dylan laughed. "Okay, fine, you're right. Can we go now? I have to be at the studio early to judge."

"Judge what?"

"Oh, the competition. They're fighting over alternate captain."

"Gotcha. Ehmagawd, that's him!"

"Who?"

"Kemp Hurley!"

"Kuh-laire said you liked him."

Kristen grabbed the Gamma's wrist. "Come awn!" She dragged her out of the store and landed for the second time in two days in front of him. "Um, hey." She tried to sound easy-breezy, as though running into him was no big deal.

"Yo." He was clearly disinterested in her.

"Kemp, Dylan Marvil. Dyl, Kemp Hurley."

"Dylan Marvil?" His eyes widened and the brows shot up. "Really? My mom is, like, _obsessed_ with The Daily Grind."

"Thanks." She grinned. "I'll tell Mom." In a lowered mutter, she hissed, "When I see her."

"Hey." He grinned at the redhead. "Wanna grab coffee or something?"

Dylan gasped and shot a look at Kristen, who was absolutely devastated. But she shrugged it off and faked a smile at Dylan. 'Go ahead,' she mouthed.

Eternally grateful, Dylan accepted the offer, and she danced off with Kemp.

Kristen's Kemp.

**RIVERA MANSION  
ALICIA'S ROOM  
4:12 PM  
JUNE 30, 2013**

Alicia counted herself off, then launched into a perfect replica of Dylan's routine. Then she positioned the tripod that had been recording her and pressed Play. Not bad.

She snuck a glance at the clock. "Ehmagawd," she gasped. "I'm gonna be late." She didn't want to bother waiting for the elevator, so, using the stair banister as support, she whipped herself down two flights, yelling for Alex.

"A su servicio, señorita." He nodded.

"Tenemos que ir ahora mismo o voy a llegar tarde a las audiciones capitán alternativas!"

He leapt into the driver's seat of the limo and tore out of there. He traveled up Route 202, turned left, and made a beeline for the dance studio. Alex could be a very aggresive driver when he chose to.

4:28. With a rushed thanks to her chauffeur, she ran outside, changed into her shorts and tank in the deserted locker room, and rushed inside.

"We've been waiting for you, Miss Rivera. I was sure you'd turn up." The teacher smiled.

She beamed. They'd waited for her! "Well, I'm here now."

"Good, good. Dylan?" She extended a black top hat toward the redhead, who fished around inside and pulled out a slip of paper.

"Kiara Santiago!"

A Hispanic girl with boobs that didn't rival Alicia's but were close and dark hair tinted with blonde stepped up confidently.

"Awn three, two, one-"

Mrs. Farson gestured for the rest of the class to sit while Kiara performed. As she danced, Dylan scrawled notes on the clipboard she was balancing on her lap.

Kiara finished the wild wiggle that was the last move with a dramatic hair-flip, the burst out laughing. Most of the class grinned, and they all applauded politely.

"Jessica Acenseo!"

She was sporty for a dance girl, and she looked like she'd be interested in lacrosse or soccer, not modern.

"Awn three, two, one-"

Two left, and Alicia still hadn't had her turn. She was hoping, praying to God that she would be last.

"Bianca Ferriola!" Dylan rolled the R.

Bianca's turn zoomed by, and in a flash, Alicia's name was called.

With a relieved sigh, Mrs. Farson hit the music for the last time, and it rang out.

Alicia focused with all her heart. This was her chance... And there was her cue. And she'd missed it.

"Okay, thank you all!" Mrs. Farson announced. "We have lots of wonderful dancers here! During class tomorrow, we will announce who won, and they will work with Dylan and I for the rest of the week, while you," she indicated the others, "will rehearse with Miss Tia."

"Miss Tia?" Alicia couldn't help letting a disappointed groan out. Miss Tia was the worst of the worst of the substitutes. She smoked all over the place, and smelled like it too. She wouldn't let them make one mistake (not that Alicia ever did), and she was just a bitch.

"Did you have something to add, Alicia?"

She shook her head.

"Very well. Class dismissed. See you tomorrow, bright and early. 8:00, please!"

As the girls filed out, all Alicia could do was hope. She knew she'd screwed up at the beginning, but she was still the best dancer there. She'd gotten right back on track and killed it the rest of the song. She just hoped that Dylan could see how good she was too.

**MARVIL MANSION  
DYLAN'S ROOM  
5:19 PM  
JUNE 30, 2013**

'Our friendship is screwed, our friendship is screwed, our friendship is screwed.' That was all Dylan could think as she sifted through three pages full of notes. One page a person, one name a page. And not one of the final three names was Alicia Rivera.

Dylan knew she needed to decide this fairly and honestly. It wasn't fair or honest to pick Alicia as alternate captain just because they were friends. But she knew the Beta would be crushed when she found out. What to do?

She had to be fair and honest. She eliminated first one name, and then, after some very tense moments, she eliminated another.

One left.


	6. Pros and Cons

**PINEWOOD APARTMENTS  
KRISTEN'S ROOM  
1:49 PM  
JULY 3, 2013**

"So how was your date?" Kristen asked, fighting to keep her smile alive.

"Great!" Dylan exclaimed, shoving a flower in the blonde's face. "Look, he got me a rose!"

"It's really pretty," she sighed. "I'm glad you had fun."

Obviously her facade wasn't convincing, though, because Dylan sat down next to the Delta and said, "You know I would never have told him yes if you hadn't let me, right? I know you liked him."

"No, truly, it's okay." But her moan gave her away.

"Ehmagawd, Kris! You still like him, don't you?"

"No, Dyl, _no_. It's _fine_."

"No it's nawt. I'm gonna call him right now and tell him we can't do this ah-gain."

"No!" Kristen grabbed Dylan's iPhone. "Don't do that for me."

"But it's ahbvious you want him."

"But he doesn't want me," she opposed. "Take him. You're- you're perfect for each other."

"Nawt if you want him."

"It's _fine_. I promise."

"If you say so. But if you ever want this to stawp, you just have to tell me, alright? Hey, Kris, you're being really brave."

"I know." She smirked.

"What about that other kid?" Dylan said.

"What other kid?"

"That one Kemp was standing with."

"I wasn't looking at the kid Kemp was standing with! I was looking at Kemp."

"Gawd, Kris, you aren't over him at all. It's ahbvious."

"You forgot Massie's New York accent."

"Huh?"

"Awl, nawt all." She grinned.

"Whatevs." She beamed back.

Kristen had successfully changed the subject. Thank God.

**AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
****MASSIE'S ROOM  
****8:53 AM  
****JULY 3, 2013**

Massie stood by her door, waiting for the knock. And sure enough...

She pulled it open. "Hey."

"Voici les enfants, Massie. Merci beaucoup pour les regarder pendant que nous sortons." Aunt Jean tossed in a fleeting smile before pressing $20 worth of American money into the brunette's hand and beginning to step out.

"You're welcome for baby-sitting," Massie responded, knowing perfectly well that her aunt knew English.

Aunt Jean patted her niece on the head and left.

"Okay, girls. Hey, stawp that!" she yelled.

They glanced up, their blue eyes widening innocently. Massie's heart melted. She knew the nine-year-olds were devils, but they just looked so... nice. She wouldn't let that faze her. Gathering her best French, she stuttered, "S'il vous plaît ne pas jouer avec mes bijoux."

Immediately, the twins dropped their hands and stood respectfully.

Massie made a face and an obscene gesture toward her aunt's retreating back. What was she supposed to do with these two for an entire three hours? "Come, Brigitte, Thérèse. Do you want to go to the park?" When they didn't answer, it took her a minute to remember the girls didn't understand English. She repeated the question in halting French.

Giggling, they nodded and stepped up right next to her. It took her another minute to realize they wanted to link arms, as was a popular French action. She slid her elbow through theirs and smirked. She reached across Thérèse, slid her phone into her Diesel purse, and waltzed outside, locking the door.

'They're being surprisingly good today,' she thought, semi-shocked. With a small flick of her hand, she sent them off to play and sat down on a wooden bench. She had buried herself in her phone, so she didn't realize when someone leaned over her until they cleared their throat.

She jumped up and started. "Uh, hi? I mean, bounjour?" she tried.

He astounded her by replying in her own language. "I think your charges are having a tiny problem." He jerked his strong chin toward Brigitte and Thérèse, who were engaged in a shouting match with a few other young girls.

"Oh, um, do you... could you help me out? Just a little?"

"No French?" He grinned.

"Nawt really," she told him with a laugh.

"Alright." He followed her over. "Arrêter!" he ordered.

The girls froze, and Massie took the twins by the hand. That had been easier than she'd counted on, at least until Thérèse cried, "Aïe!" and spun around, aiming a good kick toward a girl's shin.

"How do you say 'what was that for?'" she asked the boy.

He rounded on Thérèse. "Pourquoi avez-vous fait?" he demanded.

"Elle a tiré mes cheveux!" she explained tearfully, rubbing her head.

"Arrêter!" Massie yelled at the girl who had pulled her cousin's hair. "Nous rentrons à la maison!"

She began leading them out of the playground, vowing that she'd never come back. She should have known nothing could ever go right with those girls.

"So, see you tomorrow?" he inquired.

She stopped. "Can we go with maybe?"

"Sure." With a light grin, he jogged off the other way, his floppy light brown hair flying behind him in the wind.

"Thanks!" she shouted after him. Not that he could hear.

But, amazingly, he turned. "Welcome!"

And then he disappeared for real.

**BODY ALIVE DANCE STUDIO  
****AUDITORIUM  
****2:04 PM  
****JULY 3, 2013**

It took less time than usual to calm the dancers down, because everyone was so excited for the alternate captain announcement.

Importantly, Dylan stood, preparing to raise her voice. It turned out she didn't need to. "So, my pick is..." She didn't pause for suspense. She paused because she wanted to postpone the inevitable. There wasn't a point. Nothing drastic happened. The power didn't go out, a bolt of lightning didn't strike the studio, there was no panicked scream from across the building. Biting her lip, she mumbled, "OliviaRyan."

"Speak more clearly, Dylan, please," Mrs. Farson instructed, not looking at all sympathetic with her student's plight.

"Olivia Ryan," she announced. "I choose Olivia Ryan."

Alicia stood up straight. "I thought we were best friends. I don't even-" She stormed out. No one followed.

Olivia walked up to the front and shook hands with Mrs. Farson, then Dylan. "Congratulations," the redhead told her warmly.

Honestly, she didn't get the point of having a co-captain. It wasn't like she was going to be sick or anything.

**ORLANDO  
****SARI'S HOUSE  
****2:18 PM  
****JULY 3, 2013**

"It's true, Claire." Sari sighed. "You have changed. Mandy's right."

"How have I changed?" For some reason, she felt like crying. "How?!"

"I don't know." Sari shrugged.

"I bet Sarah doesn't think I've changed!"

"She does."

"Ugh! Maybe I'll find some real friends who don't think I've "changed" just because I moved!"

"Real friends? Like those girls in Westchester?"

"Sure! Why nawt?" When Sari didn't say anything, she added, "And exactly _how_ have I changed?"

"Let's start with the accent. Stawp, nawt, and I've seen your texts. Kuh-laire? What kind of name is _that_?! They're making fun of you, Claire!"

"What else? And no they aren't."

"Are."

"Aren't."

"Whatever. Next. The designer stuff. What's with that?"

"I live in Westchester now," she reiterated. "Believe me, that's _awl_ you can wear there."

"There you go with the accent again!" Sari cried.

"Forget the accent! And the designer! Why does it matter if I changed a little?"

"Cuz it's ruining our friendship," Sari told her sadly. "It really is."

"How?"

"We're falling apart. And you and Todd used to be so close. What happened there?"

"He's a brat!" Claire screamed. "He always has been!"

"Not when you were living here. I don't remember him being that way at all."

"Maybe he's the one that changed then."

"Okay, Claire, I've been trying to have a conversation with you, but obviously you'd rather be in Westchester. So go text your little friends. But don't try to hang out with us again. Sorry, Claire." And she left the room, leaving Claire to call her dad for a ride home.

**RIVERA MANSION  
****ALICIA'S ROOM  
****2:24 PM  
****JULY 3, 2013**

"What the hell! Why didn't you pick me?"

"You messed up, Leesh. I'm sorry, but you're nawt the best dancer at Body Alive."

"Then who is?"

"Other than me, you mean?" Dylan asked coolly.

Alicia growled.

"Olivia Ryan."

"No she isn't! I am!"

"Nawt at try-outs."

"Normally!"

"I had nothing to base this awf of except auditions. I'm sorry, Leesh, but that's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes."

Alicia smashed her phone down and flopped onto her bed, crying her eyes out. Why had that been the one time she messed up? Why then? Why?

"Alicia!" It was the thundering voice of her father.

"¿Qué?"

"El bebé, Alicia! El bebé ya está aquí! Su madre se ha puesto de parto!"

Her mom was in labor? She checked her outfit (an old navy blue smock-dress that barely hit her thighs; she hadn't thought she'd be leaving the house) in the mirror, hastily splashed some cool water on her face, and dabbed it off with a cotton washcloth.

"Alicia!"

"¡Ya voy!" She ran downstairs, once again ignoring the slow elevator. "Preparado!"

Len flung open the door and carried his wife outside, setting her in the limo. Alicia climbed in next to her, and Len sat opposite them. "Vaya!"

Alex pulled onto the road and raced to the hospital, dropping the family off near the front doors. Ally stumbled toward the entrance with her daughter and husband on either side of her. Panting, she dropped into a chair in the ER.

Len glanced at Alicia helplessly and gestured to the receptionist. She understood in a flash that her father wanted to stay with Ally.

She ran up. "Nurse, my mother's in labor!" she exclaimed, pointing.

The woman dialed a number on the extension landline on her desk. She spoke hurriedly, mostly in code, then dragged a wheelchair out from behind the glass. "Here, sweetie, put your mother in this and send your father over, please."

She nodded and sprinted back. "La enfermera te necesita," she told her dad. "Aquí, Mamá, subir pulg."

She helped her mother in, then wheeled her toward Len, who grasped the handles and wrenched them out of Alicia's grip.

"This way." The receptionist led the family through a door and down a white-tiled hallway, where a doctor was waiting to intercept them.

"Mr. Rivera may stay," he informed them. "But your child may not unless she is over 18 and has permission from both parents."

"It's okay. I'm nawt anywhere near 18 anyway." She strolled back to the waiting room and scooped up an old Collector's Edition of People. She knew everything it had to say.

One hour passed, two hours, three, three-and-a-half. When she was just descending into panic, a harried nurse ran in. She had the kindest molasses-colored eyes she'd ever seen. "Listen up, sweetie, your mother-"

Alicia gasped, and the nurse placed a hand on the girl's shoulder to steady her.

"It's okay. She's okay. But we're having trouble with the baby, and we're considering a C-Section, which will go quickly and have your mother home soon. Your father asked me to tell you what was happening. If you want, you can come inside."

"That would be great." She smiled and followed the woman back to the room.

Ally was shielded by a curtain on all three sides of the bed (the fourth was shoved against the wall.) She could hear the doctor, who obviously spoke Spanish easily, inside, soothing her mother. "Está bien, señora Rivera. Sus gemelos va a estar bien. Está bien. En serio. Todo saldrá bien."

Wait, what?

Alicia collapsed against the wall.

Twins? Her mother was having _twins_?

**AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
MASSIE'S ROOM**  
**7:36 PM**  
**JULY 3, 2013**

"Cena!" she heard the cook call from the dining room. Dinner.

Massie pulled herself out of bed. She'd been relieved of the twins for a while, and she'd spent the last five or six hours dreaming about the boy. She'd Skyped Kristen for about an hour, then texted Inez quickly to ask her if she could bring Massie's favorite necklace to the family jeweler, Mr. Craston, to shrink it.

But other than that, her thoughts had been focused on the guy.

Somehow, she just knew she would go back to that park tomorrow, whether she was baby-sitting again or not.

**WESTCHESTER MEDICAL CENTER  
MATERNITY WARD**  
**5:13 PM**  
**JULY 3, 2013**

Alicia had returned to the lobby and dozed off, one hand clutching her phone, the other holding onto the chair arm. She was shaken awake by a nurse, who had a brilliant beam on his face. His straight white teeth gleamed in his tanned face, and his dark eyes were bright.

"Your mother gave birth to twins!" he told her jubilantly. "Twins!"

"Girls? Boys?" Alicia questioned, expecting the worst. Two sets of XY chromosomes running around would be more than she could bear.

"One of each," he answered. "Can you believe it? Twins!"

"Twins," she repeated. "One of each." One of each.

There would be a girl. A girl. She could dress her up, and bounce her on her lap during Pretty Committee meetings. And when she was older, well, who knew? Maybe she'd even take after Alicia.

"You wanna guess their names?" the nurse asked eagerly.

"How 'bout you tell me?" she giggled.

"The boy is..." He trailed off as Ally entered the room, still in the wheelchair, but appearing perfectly healthy. "Well, I'll let your mother tell you."

"Conozca a su bebé hermano y hermana!" Ally peeled away the blankets covering their heads and began to cry. Alicia stroked her mother's head as she peered at her new siblings. "Zachary Blaise y Melinda Mae Rivera."

Zachary Blaise and Melinda Mae. Zachary Blaise and Melinda Mae. Alicia repeated the names over and over in her head, letting them soak in. Zachary Blaise and Melinda Mae. She couldn't think of anything more perfect.


	7. Boys

**Hey! I'm ba-ack! How was Europe, you may ask? PM me for my Instagram if you want pictures! Anyway, here's your long-awaited chapter! I will be expect some long-awaited reviews! *wink, wink* **

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

* * *

**AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
MASSIE'S ROOM  
8:08 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

Massie had set her alarm for 8:00, but it had taken her eight minutes to wrench herself out of bed. She had to get back to that park before someone made her stay for breakfast. Who knew when that boy would turn up? And she wanted to make sure she was there when he did.

She left a hastily scribbled note for her mother and slipped out the back door. The air was pleasantly cool. She strolled down the street, wrapping her Victoria's Secret knit jacket tighter around her, trying to block the crisp gusts of wind.

Before she opened the gate, she checked her Lancome makeup in the compact she always carried with her. The CoverGirl blush had long since run out, but she'd considered it her lucky mirror ever since she'd hosted the first successful Pretty Committee sleepover with it in her pocket.

She stepped inside. The place was empty, except for a young woman running laps on the asphalt track.

"Hello?"

She jumped a mile and instinctively reached for her phone. Then she cautiously turned around.

The boy.

"Paranoid much?" he teased.

"No way," she replied.

"You wanna, um, walk or something?" he offered.

"Sure." She kept pace with him as he took off toward a dirt path that led into the sparse woods surrounding the place.

"I see you didn't bring those two."

"Brigitte and Thérèse? Oh Gawd."

He laughed. Not a high-pitched giggle, but a real boy laugh. It made her feel small and shy, a first for Massie Block since she left the Ahnnabees. "I don't think I know your name."

"Massie," she told him. "Massie Block."

"Alex Carson."

"Carson?" she repeated vaguely. Where did she know that name?

He noticed her expression. "Yeah, _those_ Carsons." He took on a look of disgust. "The ones with their own personal museum, right here in Paris." He rolled his eyes.

"But... Carson isn't even a French name."

He smiled slightly. "My mom's the one who's French. My dad's plain old American. Been there for generations."

"Gotcha." She noted how easy it was to talk to this boy. Alex.

"So tell me about yourself," he prompted as the trees began to grow more dense.

"Uh, well, my name is Massie Block. My parents are Kendra and William Block. You've maybe heard of them. No? Well, they're major players in the Westchester social scene. They're big on hosting fundraisers."

"Okay," he said dubiously. "But tell me about _you_. Not the shell everyone knows. _You_."

"Oh, uh..." She immediately felt stupid. "So. I, well, what do you want to know?"

"Describe yourself in a word."

"Fashionable."

"No. I mean your personality."

"Um..." Why was this so hard? Did she not even know her own freaking personality? She hesitated for a long, long moment.

"Alright, never mind that. Tell me about your friends."

Her face lit up. That was easy. "I've got four."

"Only four?" he questioned.

"Well, four best friends. And-" She thought about it. "You know, maybe that is it. But they're more than just friends. They're like sisters. I don't need anyone else." She glowed. "There's Alicia, my Beta."

"_Your_ Beta?"

"Yeah. We're all part of this," the word _clique _felt stupid and shallow, "group called the Pretty Committee. And I'm the Alpha. So she's _my_ Beta."

"_The Pretty Committee?_" he repeated. His eyes twinkled.

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. Not at all," he assured her. "Continue about Alicia."

"Alright. Well, she's Spanish, born in Spain. She's uber-pretty. She does dance, is totally into fashion, like as much as I am, which is a _lot_. She _loves_ Ralph Lauren. I know she wants to be Alpha, but she never will be, so I don't mention it. Anything else?"

"That's all you know about her? What about her favorite color? Her favorite food? What do you guys do when you're alone? What are your favorite memories together?"

"Her favorite color is burgundy, I think. Her wing of her mansion is all burgundy and gold, and she looks fantastic in it. Favorite food? Maybe Caesar salad. She doesn't eat a whole lot. We paint each other's nails and," she didn't want to use the word _gossip_, "talk about... stuff."

"What about memories?"

"We, um... I don't remember everything!"

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up in surrender, his dark eyes glittering."Tell me about the next one. Your Gamma, I presume?"

"Yeah. Dylan Marvil, daughter of Merri-Lee Marvil, host of The Daily Grind. She has two older sisters, and they and her mom live in Cali. They want her to move there with them, but right now she's still in Westchester. Her favorite color is hot pink, even though it looks horrible x10 awn her. Her favorite food is chocolate, or anything sweet. She's really fun, but kinda gross when she burps awl the time."

"Delta?"

"Kristen Gregory. She's poor, but we love her anyway. She's on a scholarship at Octavian Country Day, our private school, and she's the captain of the sixth-grade soccer team. She plays forward. Oh yeah, and her parents just got divorced." She pouted her glossy lips.

"Epsilon?"

Massie grinned. "She's my best friend. Her name is Kuh-laire Lyons. Right now, she's in EWlando visiting people."

"EWlando?"

She blushed. What if Alex was from Orlando? She'd just completely ruined her chances of... anything. "Orlando," she muttered. "Orlando, Florida. She has a boyfriend named Cam who sends her gummies, which she eats, like, 24/7. Her favorite food is mac&cheese." She made a face. "Her favorite drink is Arizona, the iced tea. Anything blue looks great awn her, cuz it makes her eyes sparkle, but she won't wear makeup. And she won't really wear heels either, for that matter. I think my favorite memory of us is when I gave her the dress. Or, actually, no. My favorite moment was when I let her into the Pretty Committee, even though Leesh hated me for it." And she smiled.

"_That's _what I was looking for. Friendship is something that comes from the heart."

Massie nodded seriously and considered The Pretty Committee. Did she hold a place for Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen in her heart? Maybe a little. She certainly had fun with them. They laughed and cried and did everything together. But Claire? Claire had meant something to Massie from the second she let herself see past the LBR. Claire definitely held a spot, a prime, VIP spot, in Massie's heart.

"...why isn't she your Beta?"

"Sorry. What? Who?"

"Kuh-laire, as you called her. But I'll hazard a guess her real name is Claire."

"How'd you know?"

"I noticed your New York accent. Kuh-laire kind of sounds like Claire if you say it normally."

"It's more than a New York accent. It's her nickname."

"Got it. Anyway, why isn't she your Beta if she's your best friend?"

"Well, um..." What was with the blushing around this kid? Why didn't she know what to say? Massie Block was never, ever lost for words. Not even with tremendously cute boys like the one standing in front of her. "I..." There were a thousand answers running through her head. 'She's poor. Skye doesn't like her. She can't come back from anything. Half the school thinks she's an LBR. She's friends with _Layme_.' What she ended up saying was, "She lives in my guesthouse."

He sounded outraged. "So she can't be-Oh, okay. She's a little tight, isn't she?"

Massie pursed her lips. "Yeah."

"But does that really mean she can't be your Beta?"

Massie thought about it. "But I meant Alicia first." Her argument sounded half-hearted, even to herself.

"So?"

"It's just the way things are." She pretended to check the time on her watch, then said, "I gotta go. See you tomorrow. Maybe."

He waggled his long fingers at her and turned away.

The entire walk home, his words played on a constant loop through her mind. Why _couldn't_ Claire be her Beta? Really, why was it such a big deal? She tried to banish the thoughts, but no luck. Massie had a good memory and a love of obsessing. Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes a curse. This time, she wasn't sure which.

**RIVERA MANSION  
****MASTER BEDROOM  
2:29 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

"Puh-lease," Alicia moaned as she dragged herself into the room her entire family except for her was now sharing. Even her cat, Marshmallow, was curled up snugly between the two cradles that held the screaming babies. _She_ wasn't affected."Shut up."

"No hables con tus hermanos nacidos de esa manera," scolded Ally, rolling over and groaning.

"Lo siento," Alicia grumbled. She couldn't believe this wasn't bothering her parents.

Maybe the kids were hungry. She offered to feed them, holding up the formula the nurse at the hospital had given them.

"Gracias, Alicia." Ally smiled feebly, rubbing her midsection. "No estar embarazada se siente tan diferente," she mused.

Alicia ducked her head. She didn't want to discuss her mother's pregnancy. It was over, she'd had the twins, that was it. She carefully spooned the stuff into Melinda and Zachary's mouths, focusing as hard as she could on not thinking about what the crap looked like. They immediately dropped back off to sleep. "Buenas noches," she mumbled, slinking back to her room, and praying that every night wouldn't be like this.

**PINEWOOD APARTMENTS  
****KRISTEN'S ROOM  
****10:03 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

She woke up to a text from Dylan.

**BIGREDHEAD: Kemp asked me awn another date!  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: That's gr8!  
BIGREDHEAD: i just wanted 2 make sure it was OK w/ u.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: i told u: knock urself out. IK ur happy.  
BIGREDHEAD: Don't b mad, Kris.  
SEXYSPORTSBABE: i'm nawt, i'm nawt. Really, i'm nawt.  
BIGREDHEAD: Thx, girl. :)**

Independent. She had to learn to be independent. She'd find herself another boy. One that deserved her. She'd be a much better girlfriend than Dylan. She had to be.

Independence. After all, that was what today was all about.

Happy Fourth of July.

**WANG HOUSE  
DYLAN'S ROOM  
10:07 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

Ding! Ding! Dylan looked wildly around, trying to judge where the ringing was coming from. She located the laptop on her desk and threw it open. Someone was trying to call her on Skype. She answered without checking who it was.

"Hello?"

"Happy Fourth of July!" her sisters and mother trilled, dressed in red, white, and blue, right down to their makeup, hair (obviously extensions and clips), and even skin tone. Merri-Lee was paler than ever, having been doused in thick powder, Ryan was sky-blue (and sat glaring at her arm, twisting it angrily), and Jaime was red, and gave off the appearance of being just a bit more sunburned than usual.

Dylan shook her head. "What is going awn? And why are you up this early?"

"I'm taking the girls on the show," Merri-Lee explained.

"Ah. Well, I gotta go. I'm meeting Kemp in an hour. We're going mini-golfing."

"Kemp?" Ryan repeated. "As in, a boy?"

She smirked.

"Omigod!" Ryan shrieked. "You have a boyfriend!"

"Is he nice, sweetie?" Merri-Lee inquired.

"Of course he's nice. Do you think I would go out with some creep?"

"Stay around other people," Merri-Lee instructed. "And don't do anything you don't want to."

"We're going into seventh grade, Mom. What do you think he's going to do, feel me up?"

"It happens," her mother and Jaime said at the same time.

"Alright; everything's fine; I'll be fine. Happy Fourth to you too. I'll call you later and tell you how it went if you want."

"That sounds great. And honey, have you given any more thought to moving out-"

"Bye! Love you! Bye!" And she jammed her finger onto the power button, turning the computer off before her mother had even hung up.

**WESTCHESTER SPORTS COMPLEX  
MINI-GOLF COURSE  
11:19 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

DYLAN'S POV

Energetically, she swung her club around so hard it flew out of her hand. "Oops," she giggled, her face turning red as she bent to retrieve it.

Kemp placed a hand on her shoulder. "Save that for the actual game." He flapped the score cards in the light breeze that was a relief on such a day. "You're going down."

"I don't think so." She grinned and ran toward the beginning of the course.

Kemp shook his shaggy black bangs out of his face and blinked his dark eyes a couple of times, trying to decipher Dylan's beauty. He could see how she might be attractive to some people; with her long red waves, creamy skin, perfect makeup and nails, designer clothes, and noticable curves. But she wasn't really his type.

The only reason he'd asked her out was for the connections. He might come from a semi-rich family, but that was new money. His father was out of the picture, but his mother was the branch manager of the entire tri-state area of IBM. That made her a good amount of dough, but it didn't come with fame. In Westchester, $875,000 a year wasn't something to be all that proud of.

KRISTEN'S POV

"Hurry up, Belle." Kristen knew she still had feelings for Kemp, but she needed to let them go. And the only way she knew how to do that was in a good game of soccer. "Come awn!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Belle hollered back. It was true. She was sprinting towards the soccer field as quickly as she could, a soccer ball under one arm. Her cleats dug into the hard-packed ground, and her braid, almost the same color as Kristen's, fell down her back in a perfectly straight, neat line. Small gold hoops hung in her ears. "You want me to be goalie first?" she asked.

"Sure." Kristen took the ball, slammed her foot down on it to keep it still, and waited for Belle to position herself. "Ready? I'm getting the feeling I'm going to be kicking extra hard today."

"Why?" Belle wondered.

She didn't feel like venturing into the whole Kemp business. That was between her and Dylan. She hadn't let Kemp know a single thing. "Just cuz."

Belle wasn't one for prying. "K. Kick."

Kristen took a step back, focused, leapt forward, and connected with the ball _hard_. It sailed into the air and headed straight toward Belle's unprotected stomach. She jumped sideways and threw herself onto the ground.

"Geez. You weren't kidding."

"Nope." She took a couple more shots, until her anger began to fade away. "Your turn."

As she turned around, she noticed a familiar red head about forty feet away from her. "_Dylan?_" she murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing, Belle. Nothing." She continued staring. Dylan was clearly holding hands with Kemp. His raven hair gleamed in the high sun. "Ehmagawd."

"_What?_ What are you not telling me?"

"_Nothing_, Belle. Could you just hold awn for half-a-second?"

"Uh... okay?"

Kristen didn't wait to hear her answer. She stormed toward the mini-golf course.

**ORLANDO  
HILTON HOTEL  
11:41 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

Claire flopped down on the thick matress and let herself relax. Her eyes began to water.

"Claire? We're leaving!" Judi emerged from the en-suite bathroom, applying her mascara with one last swipe. "Are you sure you want to stay here all day? It's so nice out. And you're wasting valuable time. In only a few short weeks, we're driving back to Westchester."

"I'm sure."

"Don't try to leave without us. Don't take Daddy's iPad or my Kindle; they're locked in the safe. You're really just going to stay here and do nothing. Are you _sure_?"

"Yes!"

"Okay..." Judi began to walk out.

Claire stood. "And by the way, it is totally unfair that you're just going to leave me here with nothing to do. I stay here awl day awl alone cuz I don't feel good, and in turn, you ditch me to go to an amusement park and give me only one crappy summer reading book for the whole day? What do you expect me to do?!"

"If you really don't feel good, you should sleep."

"I don't _want_ to sleep!" she screeched. "I want something to _do_!"

"Then I don't believe you're sick. I think you're just upset because of whatever happened with Sari."

"You know what you need to do?" Jay popped his head back inside. "Build a bridge and get over it." He beamed.

"Shut up." Claire buried her face in the pillow and screwed her eyes shut.

"Bye!" Todd crowed, pulling Judi and Jay from the room.

"Be back by five!" Claire hollered after them, scowling. The second she heard the lock click, she dragged herself over toward the safe and ran through four-letter number combinations she knew her parents used. 0913 (September 13, the day Judi was born), 1129 (November 29, the day Jay was born), 0108 (January 8, the day her paternal grandmother, Jay's mother, had passed away)...

The door opened.

Claire flung herself back into bed and tried to assume a casual position. "Forget my fanny pack," Judi explained cheerily as she reached for it. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to come? Last chance!"

"_Yes_," she insisted. "Good-_bye_."

**WESTCHESTER SPORTS COMPLEX  
MINI-GOLF COURSE  
11:43 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

It took Kristen ages to approach Dylan and Kemp because there were clear sings stating that she'd better not, under any circumstances excluding fires and necessary evacuations, step on the freshly mowed grass. So she walked around the long way, her steps becoming stomps as she went. By the time she was in front of the two, she felt like she should be breathing fire.

She pasted a sickly-sweet smile on her face, but her eyes were unforgiving. "Hello," she simpered.

"Um, hi." Dylan's forehead crinkled.

"Hey." Kemp sounded surprisingly enthusiastic. When he noticed Dylan's confused glance, he quickly amended it. Narrowing his eyes, he added, "What are you doing here? Did you follow us?"

"Uh, _no_. Why would I do that? I was here with Belle." She pointed and waved her arms at Belle, who cocked her head, but waved back.

"Gotcha." Dylan nodded. "Well, have fun! Come awn, Kemp!" She shot Kristen an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

She couldn't take it anymore. "You bitch! You took Kemp! You knew I wanted Kemp and you took him!"

"You said it was okay!" Dylan breathed, widening her eyes in shock. Why was this happening? She'd be nice enough to tell Kristen everything, ask her for approval, and even gave her room to say no. And after all that, why was she being attacked? Especially in front of Kemp. What kind of friend was Kristen?

"I-I..." Dylan's accusation was true; that was the worst part, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. "You fat, insecure bitch! The only reason Massie wanted to be friends with you, the only reason Kemp wanted to go out with you, was cuz of The Daily Grind. That's awl!" She knew exactly what to say to hurt the Gamma most.

"But you never said you wanted him! Well, I mean, you did, but you told me it was okay!"

A moment of weakness was what Kristen had been waiting for. "Move out to California, for awl I care. But stay away from me!"

Kemp jumped in between the two, and both their arms lowered. Their fighting stances dropped for a temporary truce.

"Girls," he began, trying to sound chivalrous. "I hate to say this," he looked at Dylan, "but I have to side with Kristen for this one." He put a sweaty arm around her shoulders. "The only reason I ever went out with you is because of the Daily Grind." He tilted his head toward Kristen. "She's who I wanted from the beginning, and now that I know she wanted me back..." He smirked, his long-lashed eyes glimmering.

"You jerk!" Dylan screamed, running away as fast as she could.

"And proud of it!" he hollered gleefully after her.

Kristen let out a few giggles, partly amusement, but mostly relief. She'd won. And she had Kemp.

* * *

**YES, I POSTED THIS SEPTEMBER 12, BUT IF YOU ARE AMERICAN, DON'T FORGET TO TAKE A MOMENT OF PRAYER FOR 9/11.**


	8. Comfort

**WESTCHESTER SPORTS COMPLEX  
PARKING LOT  
11:59 AM  
JULY 4, 2013**

"Dylan!" Lloyd exclaimed as he coasted the car to a smooth stop in front of the youngest Marvil.

In response, Dylan coughed out a batch of fresh tears as she climbed into the sleek black limo. Then she slowly began to speak. "I-I have to get away from here, Lloyd," she breathed.

"I'm going as fast as I can. I just have to make a U-Turn here. Dylan, what _happened_?"

"No, Lloyd," she insisted. "I have to get _away _from here."

"What do you-" He exhaled quickly, as though the wind had been forced out of him by her sentence. "You're not leaving, are you Dylan?"

"I'm sorry." She hid her eyes with her arm, but she couldn't stop the salty drops of water from leaking out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She loved Lloyd like the father she'd never really had. He was her paternal figure, and she'd trusted him with everything she couldn't tell her mother. She could joke with him, play road games with him, and he wasn't as protective as Isaac was with Massie. He was everything to her. Merri-Lee had purposely left him in Westchester for Dylan, knowing what he was to her. Plus, there was no way to bring him to California, unless she had him drive cross-country. It was a win-win for everyone.

"Oh, Dylan." He reached back cautiously, careful to keep his eyes on the road, and rubbed her back. He was the only male she'd ever let touch her that way. Except for Kemp. No. Kemp was off-limits. She would never, ever let that bastard cross her mind again.

She let out a small, shuddering sigh, and her core shook. She leaned her head against the cool, frosted glass of the windows and watched the world pass by, letting her eyes travel along the metal rail on the side of the highway, even though it made her nauseaus. She watched as they followed the gravel path down the block, not stopping at the Marvil Manor. "Where are we going, Lloyd?"

"We're stopping." He pulled the car into a secluded area, sheltered by trees. Lawfully, it was part of the Crane property. They had a son named Landon, who was a year older than her, and a daughter named Allison, who was possibly in kindergarten, but might still be in her last year of nursery school. Allison liked to play on the edge of the woods, and most of the neighborhood was in agreement that Landon brought his cronies there to officiate his drug deals. Ryan and Jaime shared an opinion that Merri-Lee should expose him on the show, but her mother kept saying that that was not what The Daily Grind was for. Dylan hadn't put her two pennies in. It was nice seeing her family fight when it didn't include her, which was rare.

"Why? This is the Crane's."

"Doesn't matter. I need to talk to you." He opened the door and came around the car, then slid onto the seat next to her. "What's up?"

She giggled. Her driver had that effect. "A girl I thought was one of my closest friends betrayed me, my boyfriend left me for her, and I don't have anyone to side with me."

"Why not?"

"Massie's in England, and she's going awn and awn about this "ah-dorable" Carson boy, and I doubt she wants to be bothered by my petty problems."

"Don't you always say she's your Alpha?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then if she wants the privilege of leading, she has responsibilities to take care of her friends. Try talking to her. She might care more than you think. And if she doesn't, she either doesn't know what she's doing, Alpha-ing, or she's a crappy friend."

She actually laughed this time. "Alright. And I really don't want to annoy Leesh. She's got enough awn her plate right now; nawt sleeping cuz of her new brother and sister, and dealing with them. She's really trying to help her parents out."

"That I get." He nodded solemnly. "What about your other friend? Kirsten?"

"Kristen," she corrected him, much as Alicia had corrected Massie when she'd first met her. "She's the one who backstabbed me."

"Oh. Okay. Isn't there another?"

"Yeah. Kuh-laire. She's in Orlando with her other best friends, who don't really like us that much. I don't want to intrude."

"That makes sense. I'd suggest talking to the Block girl first."

"Okay. Thanks, Lloyd. I'll try her tonight, but if she doesn't do something fast, I don't know how much longer I can survive in Westchester. Everyone's gonna know by tonight that Kemp broke up with me for Kristen. I don't think I can handle that."

"Keep your head up, girl," he encouraged. "I'm rootin' for ya."

"Thanks, Lloyd," she repeated. "You're a guh-reat driver. And a guh-reat person. You rock."

"I know." He grinned, showing off sparkling white teeth. "You too."

"I know." She smirk-grinned back.

**WESTCHESTER SPORTS COMPLEX  
MINI-GOLF COURSE  
12:10 PM  
JULY 4, 2013**

They were at the beginning of the course, getting ready to start over.

"No fair!" Kristen teased. "You know the course. You have an advantage!"

"You're sporty girl."

"So?" She liked this flirting thing. It felt effortless, more like they were friends than in a relationship. It came naturally.

He swooped his arm toward the first putting green. "Would you like to go before me, m'lady?"

"Why nawt?" she said grandly, walking up to him and positioning her (Dylan's) club. She was ready to take a whack at the neon green ball, but then she drooped.

"What's wrong, Kristen?" Kemp asked, smoothing back his gelled, jet-black hair.

"I feel bad for Dylan," she admitted quietly. "I mean, I did tell her she could date you."

He looked confused. "But I never wanted her anyway. I would have found some way to get to you eventually."

She smiled. "Really?" She stood up straight again.

He patted her on the shoulder. "Definitely."

**COUSIN CHRISTELLE'S HOUSE  
FRONT PORCH  
****8:01 PM  
JULY 4, 2013**

"What about the holiday?" Massie whispered, holding her mother's hand back from ringing the doorbell.

"They're not American. They take that seriously. Don't say anything about it at all," William instructed, knocking on the door himself. "And if you can't say it in French, don't say it. Okay?"

"Got it, Dad." She pushed a lock of brunette hair off her soft cheek and waited patiently for someone to let them in. Eventually the lock clicked and a face appeared. Cousin Christelle.

"C'est tellement agréable de vous voir!" Cousin Christelle leaned in and planted two kisses on Kendra, one on both the woman's lightly tanned cheeks.

"Vous aussi!" Kendra smiled back, her diamond earrings flashing, and also pecked Christelle's cheeks. She waved a hand at the two people accompanying her. "C'est mon mari, William, et ma fille, Massie."

Massie threw on a beam as Kendra introduced her, and dipped her head slightly before making eye contact with Christelle.

"Je n'ai pas vu des photos de vous pendant deux ans! Vous avez obtenu plus grand." Christelle grinned, flashing her teeth, so Massie figured it was a compliment.

"Merci."

"No French?" asked Christelle, in perfect English, with only a slight trace of an accent.

"Not really." Massie chanced a look at her father, who shrugged.

"I didn't know she spoke English," he told her.

"I was an exchange student for two years, after you last saw me." She directed her explanation at William. "And what I said, Massie, was that you've really grown up."

"You never met me."

"I saw pictures. And I've FaceTimed your mother."

"In French," she pointed out stubbornly.

Christelle grabbed her arm. "Come meet everyone!" she cried, her flaxen hair swinging behind her.

Massie's pocket vibrated, and she twisted out of her cousin's grip. She held up a finger. "Hold awn. Go ahead. I'll catch up."

Christelle nodded and led her parents off. She reached into the back of her jeans and pulled out her phone. Someone was requesting an Oovoo chat. She accepted. A huge face with a few faint pimples scatted around the round, pert nose, looked at her.

"Dylan?"

"Yeah, it's me. You won't believe what happened."

"Ehmagawd." Had someone stolen her place as Alpha? Was it _Alicia_? Ooh, that girl was so dea-

"It's nawt Alicia. And nobody's threatening your Alpha spot. Chill. This has to do with me, nawt you."

"Got it." She flicked herself on the fleshy underside of her arm for making assumptions when Dylan clearly didn't need them. "What's wrong?"

"Kristen stole Kemp."

"Whoa. What? _Our _Kristen stole _your_ Kemp? She wasn't abducted by aliens or anything, was she?"

"Massie!" she heard a shriek from behind her. "What are you do-"

"Coming!" she hollered back. "Two minutes!"

"No, now!"

"Hold _awn_!" she bellowed. "Hurry, Dyl."

"You know how I told her a thousand times that if she ever felt uncomfortable, you know, cuz she liked Kemp, that she could-"

"Kristen liked Kemp?"

"Yeah. You didn't know that?"

Massie shook her head. She hated being out of the loop. "Now I do."

"So anyway, I told her if she ever felt uncomfortable, she could just tell me, and I'd break it awf with Kemp. But she just _ambushed_ us when we went mini-golfing. And she said some really, really mean things to me, right in front of Kemp. And then Kemp just _declared_, right then and there, that was in love with her. I mean, what the actual fuck?"

Massie whistled under her breath.

"So I'm leaving." Dylan didn't tell the brunette that she considering her choices. It was better to make it sound urgent.

"You're really going? To Cali?"

She shrugged, trying to invoke some sadness into the gesture. "I guess so."

"I'll miss you, Dyl, truly." She sighed. "You'll have to FaceTime me awl the ti-"

"_Massie Block__!_"

"Oh Gawd, Dyl, I need to go. At least stay until the end of the summer so I can say good-bye."

"I can't. They'll have to get me enrolled in school there for seventh grade and awl sorts of stuff. I'll have to go now if I don't want to be the new kid for the rest of my life."

"You're Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter. You'll never be "the new kid." She scoffed.

"_Massie!_"

She heard footsteps. "Gotta go." She pressed Hang Up with her manicured index finger and turned to face a steaming mad Kendra Block.

**ORLANDO  
HILTON HOTEL****  
3:13 PM  
JULY 4, 2013**

"This afternoon, there's a nice group tour along the shore, and it's also the last day of the Climb Like a Monkey park before it closes for repairs. And tonight, there's a huge fireworks demonstration by the beach." Jay was reading off a glossy pamphlet, scratching his balding head.

"Climb Like A Monkey!" Claire's little brother screamed, running around the room and hitting himself under the armpits and on the chest. "Climb Like A Monkey!"

"I don't know, Todd," Judi fretted. "The last day right before it's closed for repairs. That doesn't sound very safe."

"I don't think so either," said Claire, finger-combing her blonde tresses. "The walk sounds nice." She could just stroll along with her iPod, listening to her favorite music combined with the water lapping against the sand. It had been her favorite thing to do with Sarah when she was younger.

"I agree." Judi rested a hand on the Epsilon's shoulder. Claire shrugged it off and shot her mother a dirty look. Judi looked sad.

"I'm not in the mood for a walk," Jay said. "I think a few hours of getting some energy out is just what this family needs. And they wouldn't keep the park open if it was going to fall apart at the seams if someone put weight on it. It's probably just yearly maintenance checks anyway."

"If you say so," Judi sang doubtfully. "But you're paying our medical bills." She winked at her husband.

"If you say so!" he echoed back at her, smoothing a loose red tendril back into her sloppy bun.

"Can we go now?" Todd begged.

"Sure, bud." Jay hoisted himself off the bed.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Claire excused herself. She ducked inside and leaned against the shiny white sink. What was wrong with her? Why was she so upset all the time? Was it before the thing happened with Sari, or after? No, she'd felt like this before. It was ever since starting OCD. But she had true friends now, and she had Layne, and in seventh grade, she was excited to join Photography Club. So what was going on? She sighed, telling herself she'd think about it later, when she was supposed to be sleeping. She opened the wooden door and tried to put some fun into her voice. "Let's go!"

**RIVERA MANSION  
ALICIA'S ROOM  
3:27 PM  
JULY 4, 2013**

"Okay," Alicia whispered to herself. Whether or not she was the alternate captain, she could still perform the best routine there. Then everyone would know she was made to be the leader of the squad. "And five, six, five six seven eight."

She would _so _kick ass tomorrow.

**WANG HOUSE  
****HALLWAY  
****3:30 PM  
JULY 4, 2O13**

Dylan crept down the hallway that led to Vera's bedroom. The designer also had her own wing of the house, but not for show. She kept live-in assistants, whose job it was to keep up with any people who somehow found her private phone number, and to sort spam from actual e-mail. It was tiresome, boring work, but Vera paid them a high salary and gave them lots of days off. And she really had no trouble keeping workers; she was a nice lady, without a nasty bone in her body.

Dylan knocked. The door was cracked open immediately.

"_Dylan? _Goodness, I thought you were going to be Marla!"

That was when the Gamma noticed what her godmother was wearing: a silky black push-up bra with matching wispy boy shorts, revealing much more than a 64-year-old woman should. Her hair was pulled into a tight-loose bun, and she had on piles of makeup. Clustered behind her were four younger women attired in more or less the same thing, but a little more risque. One was African American, and she was sporting an eye-catching red set. Another was an All-American type, blonde with green eyes, tan skin, and a serious six-pack. She had on something that was so see-through she might as well not be wearing it. The other two she couldn't really see, but she had a hunch their outfits were along the same lines.

"What's going awn here?"

"Marla's coming for a photo shoot for my line, Simply Vera Wang," Vera explained.

"_You_'_re_ going to be _in_ it?"

"Well, no. But I figured it would help me get into the spirit of things." She smiled. "Anyway, what is it you need, sweetie?"

"Well, I had something to tell you. But it can wait until dinner."

"Oh, honey, I think I might be working straight through. But I'll try to get out for a few minutes, okay?"

"Puh-lease don't turn into Mom," Dylan pleaded, tears dotting her eyes.

"What was that?" Vera bent down so as to be at eye level with the redhead.

"Nuh-thing," she murmured. "Puh-lease try to make a few minutes, k?"

"Of course," Vera assured her warmly. "Oh, Marla, come in!"

Dylan jumped to the side as a tall woman with striking blue eyes and graying hair bustled past her, gripping a folder in one hand and her phone in the other. "Excuse you."

Marla pushed through the door, closing it behind her, not appearing as though she had noticed Dylan was even there.

But she should be used to it. That was pretty much how she'd been feeling lately.


	9. Sad and Serious

**Warning: dramatic. Could be a trigger chapter for some people. Involves serious things such as rape and murder. Nobody we know is getting raped or murdered, but there is a very serious discussion. So if you don't think you can handle it, tell me and I'll tell you what happens.**

**Also, I have a feeling that all through my books, I've switched between Mrs. Gregory's (now Ms. Miller's) name as being Marsha or Martha. So it'll probably go back and forth, but I will try my hardest to stick with one. Sorry. :(**

**And IK I haven't updated in ages and I am SO SORRY. I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those authors and yet here I am, not having updating in a month. So I really will try to update at least one or two of my stories at least every other day.**

**Heart ya,  
Joy**

* * *

**PARIS  
BUTTES-CHAUMONT PARK  
9:23 AM  
JULY 5, 2013**

Massie furtively looked around, then slipped through the unlocked back exit. From there, she could stroll casually around the edge of the park and join the Carson boy, Alex, by the playground benches. And if anyone asked just what the hell she thought she was doing, she could just say she didn't speak French. At least that was true.

"Massie?"

"_Mom? _What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk," she explained. "It's so lovely here; the birds are chirping and the sun is shining and just _look _at all the beatiful flowers."

"It is nice," Massie allowed. "See you later, Mom."

"Where are you going?" Kendra asked.

Massie cocked her head. "Over there. There's a boy I talk to."

Kendra batted her eyes. "Is he _nice_?"

"He's a Carson." She knew that was all she had to say.

"Oh! I know his mother, Jeanette. Such a doll! Have fun, sweetie!"

"You too, Mom."

**WESTCHESTER THEATER  
BACKSTAGE  
3:28 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Okay, girls, this is it," Mrs. Farson announced. "Let's all put on our stage smiles. Ready? One, two, three."

Alicia grinned widely.

"No, Olivia, teeth don't touch. You too, Bianca. Get your eyes into it, Crystal. That looks so fake. Jes- May I help you?"

The class turned as one to see who she was talking to.

A man with blonde locks like straw and wide blue eyes blushed. "Emergency in the wings. One of your girls locked herself in the bathroom."

"Jesus Christ," Mrs. Farson muttered, looking wildly around. Alicia stood up straighter and threw her chest out. The instructor's eyes lit up, but not on the Beta. "Dylan. Could you please finish for me?"

"Sure." She tugged on her hair-bow. "Could you guys smile ah-gain for me?"

The girls nodded and beamed.

"Okay, she was right about you, Olivia. And you, Bianca. That's better, Crystal. Kiara, nice smile, but your ponytail is falling down. Leesh, can you put it back up, puh-lease?"

"Of course!" She skipped over to Kiara, and, with angry strokes, tore the bow out of the poor girl's hair.

Dylan sighed. "That's perfect, Meena. And you too, Kay. And you, Nanci. Samantha, your posture sucks."

A few girls giggled.

"Save it. Brianne, your back is curved over too. And Melina, who in the world told you to curl your hair?"

The honey-blonde tossed her corkscrew tresses over her shoulder. "It's _natural_," she breathed.

"Good Gawd," Dylan murmured. "Leesh, do you still carry that straightener in your bag?"

"Gawd, who made _me_ hair-stylist? That's nawt my job."

"Fine. Chrissy, could you-"

"Fine. I'll do it," Alicia grumped.

Just then, Mrs. Farson marched back in, an embarassed Marie stomping after her. "What is going on, girls?" she asked, noticing the iron in Alicia's hand.

"Melina curled her hair," Dylan explained, rolling her eyes.

"It's natural," Melina repeated just as obnoxiously as the first time, batting her eyelids.

Dylan threw her hands up. "I don't know how you do this, Mrs. Farson."

"Right now, me neither."

**ORLANDO  
HILTON HOTEL  
3:37 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"You have to come with us, Claire. No excuses," Judi snapped. "You were so excited to come to Florida. What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

"And you love the Kissimmee pageant!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be ready in a second." She grabbed a pair of Gap cutoffs that she'd stuffed at the bottom her bag. Then she pushed past her mother and slammed the bathroom door. She sat down on the closed cover of the toilet and sniffed loudly, trying to keep from crying. She couldn't believe that she'd throw away her lifelong friendship with Sari for the Pretty Committee. What was so special about those prissy Westchester girls anyway?

What she didn't realize was that she'd become just like them.

**PINEWOOD APARTMENTS  
KRISTEN'S ROOM  
3:56 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Who are you texting?" Marsha asked suspiciously, leaning over her daughter's shoulder to look at the screen of her phone.

Kristen snapped it closed. "Uh, Kuh-laire. I was just asking her how Florida was."

"Let me see." She held out her hand.

"No, Mom! You don't have to check up on everything I do! Go away!"

She raised her eyebrows and rested a hand on Kristen's shouder. "Honey, what's wrong?" She sat down cross-legged on the floor, next to her child, and looked her in the eye.

"Nuh-thing, okay? I'm just sick of you hovering over me all the time. And don't say you're worried cuz Dad left, cuz you've been like this since I was born. I'm not going to die or go down the wrong path or whatevs just because you leave me alone for ten minutes. My friends' parents don't do this."

Her mom drew Kristen into her arms. "Oh, sweetheart, I don't do it to be over-protective. I'm just worried about you. So many things can go wrong at this age."

"Gawd, Mom, I'm nawt in high school. I can't drink and drive, or party awl night, or smoke weed. Or anything. So why don't you just leave me be?"

She ran a hand through her blonde hair. "I'm nervous for you, sweetie." A chill went through Marsha's body, and she swallowed hard, fighting the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

"Why?" Kristen demanded, questioning the one thing that Mrs. Gregory, now Ms. Miller, had hoped she would never question. "Why are you so nervous?"

"Well, because-" Her chest siezed, and for a second she thought she would have a heart attack.

"Come on, Mom. What's the big deal? Can't think of an answer, is that it?" she taunted. "Is that it?"

"No, honey." And Marsha's voice, like a ton of bricks, tumbled down onto Kristen's head, made heavier by the load of uncontrolled sadness that fell with them. "I...there was...there was someone before you."

"Huh?" She didn't get it. "What do you mean, someone before me? I know all about evolution and stuff, Mom. Of course there was someone before me. You were before me. What are you talking about?" Kristen had a habit of rambling on when she was anxious.

"No, Kristen, there was a child," she said gently. "There was another child."

"Of course there wa-"

"You know what I'm saying, Kristen. Think. This is hard for me. I'm not going to spell it out for someone as bright as you."

Realization dawned as though a light bulb had switched itself on in her head. But she thought it was better to still play a little dumb. "You had another kid? How old were you?"

"Well, how old am I now?" Marsha joked weakly, pretending to count on her fingers. "I am...41. So I had you when I was...?"

"Don't you dare turn this into a math problem."

"Fine." She looked a little taken aback. "So when you were born, I was 30."

"Okay? How old was this other kid? Oh. I get it. You had an abortion."

Ms. Miller shook her head slowly, her chin dropping to her chest. "No." Her breath was coming in gasps. "No, Kristen." And then she was sobbing.

"When did she die?"

"Two days after her eleventh birthday."

"Ehmagawd. What happened?"

Her mother licked her lips.

Kristen nestled into her embrace, but it felt alien. "Mommy," Kristen whispered, looking up into Marsha's face, using a word she'd given up on as babyish when she was in the fourth grade, "tell me."

"Rape. And murder. My little girl. Someone..."

"Who was it?" Kristen knew the answer wasn't going to be a nameless stranger.

"Your father."

"What?" It came out as a strangled screech, and she covered her mouth and coughed hard. "Then why did you marry him? Why isn't he locked up in jail? Why..."

"There are things I can't explain, sweet-pea. I'm sorry. It's just...not your business. One day, maybe. But I just can't. It's too personal."

She bit her lip. "Okay. I'm sorry," she added. "Really."

"I know. And you're a good girl. And I love you. And it's good for both of us that Phillip left. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

**WESTCHESTER THEATER  
STAGE  
4:28 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Two minutes!" a production assistant called from the wings. "I repeat, two minutes."

"Roger that, Matt. Thanks." With a smile, Mrs. Farson adjusted her glasses and stepped in front of the girls. "Okay, here's the time for any questions or concerns or problems or comments or anything."

"You did test the track out first, right?" ever-bossy Bianca asked.

"Of course," Mrs. Farson said. "Anyone else?"

"Omigod!" An exclamation rang out from the row behind Alicia.

"What?" The teacher ran over.

A crying Zara Warren showed her the torn strap on her dress.

Mrs. Farson got very red. "I told you not to play with those!" she shouted. "And now we have one minute. I'm going to have to tell you that you can't dance, sweetie."

"Hold on!" Dylan yelled. "I think I can do something!"

"One minute," the assistant called.

"Shit," the teacher hissed, smoothing her gray bun over and over again until the top stood up like she'd been shocked.

"Here!"

"What is that?" Olivia Ryan wondered, squinting at the object she held.

"A staple gun. It's better than nothing. Here." She held it out as she ran toward Zara.

"Thirty seconds!"

And although Dylan knew Massie was going to say that she should have paid Zara back, should have gotten revenge, should have let her leave with a broken strap, she did the nice thing. Very carefully, she held down the thin piece of fabric and stapled it.

"Five, four, three, two, one!"

Dylan raced back to her spot and fell to her knees. Her heart was pounding as the music started.

**WESTCHESTER THEATER  
BACKSTAGE  
4:40 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"I have an announcement." Mrs. Farson beckoned the girls toward her, grasping a stack of papers. "You all know you did a fantastic job today. You all improved so much and I'm proud to call you students."

"Hear, hear!" shouted Meena and Nanci.

She grinned. "So I found out a little surprise just before you went on. The back half of our audience here is entirely made up of talent scouts. They all wrote down the dancers they were interested in holding a meeting with, and the times and dates. Most of them are today, although I think they want to see a few of you tomorrow. As I am looking out for your best interests, I have to instruct you, if you are serious about dancing, to cancel whatever you have planned and see these men and women. Your future careers, after all, depend on them. These are the papers where they wrote down who they wanted to meet with. Kiara, Crystal, Samantha, Zara, Marie, Meena, Bianca, Melina, Olivia, Chrissy, Brianne, Alicia, Jessica, and Dylan." As she read off their names, she handed them sheets of typed paper.

Quickly, Alicia counted how many meetings she had. 36! That had to be at least half of the critics. "Hey, Dyl!" She danced over. "How many?"

Dylan scanned her paper, then looked more carefully. "34."

"Yes!" She celebrated under her breath, but when she realized Dylan was still looking at her, she amended it to, "Cool. I got 36."

"Wait. Hold awn." The Gamma flipped hers over and continued. "Sorry. 40. Maybe you have some awn the back too."

Alicia held her breath. The back was blank.

Dylan pouted. "Sorry, girlie. But 36 is a lot. And, you know, maybe now you'll realize you're nawt actually better than everyone else."

"My dancers!" Mrs. Farson hollered to the girls milling around. "Your meetings are starting in five minutes, so I suggest you get where you need to be. Your parents will pick you up later."

Alicia didn't listen. Her face was burning rosy pink, which, with her tan skin, was like fiery red. "Just what the fuck do you mean I think I'm better than everyone else?"

Dylan shrugged. "I mean what I said. I'm sorry I couldn't pick you for alternate captain, but clearly it didn't end up mattering, so-"

"Guys! Omigod, Dylan, you were great!" Olivia threw her arms around the redhead's neck. "Oh, you were good too, Alicia. So how many meetings did you guys get?"

Alicia pushed away. "I have to go. I have someone named Mr. Meyers in three minutes."

"What's up with her?" Olivia grimaced.

"She's pissed." Dylan rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I got 40, and she got 36. What about you?"

"Only 29. But whatevs. It's better than nothing."

"Definitely," Dylan agreed graciously. "And you're a much better sport than Alicia about it anyway."

"Yeah. But I gotta go. I have a Miss Stacey-" she checked her watch "-now. Toodles!" And with a beauty queen wave, she danced away, her ballet flats clicking on the wooden floor.

**KISSIMMEE PAGEANT  
FRONT ROW  
4:58 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Ugh," Todd moaned, lolling his head back against his chair. "I can't believe I have to sit here for three hours and watch some stupid girls parade around a stupid stage."

"They're not stupid, Todd!" Judi scolded. "They empower lots of young ladies!"

"Well, I'm not a lady," he muttered. "Why couldn't I have gone with Dad?"

"You could have gone with Dad," Claire snapped. "In fact, you _should _have gone with Dad."

"Whatever," he groaned.

"Shh, kiddos." Judi tapped them both on their heads. "It's starting."

Sure enough, a balding man stepped up behind a podium, holding a microphone. Claire couldn't see his legs from her close-up vantage point, but on top he had on an angora sweater-vest over a long-sleeved white button-up that practically screamed gay. In a dry, monotonous voice, he smiled hugely (and fakely) and began. "All my dear friends who have to come to view our favorite ladies in this pageant, welcome to you. To the rest of you, welcome also. I extend my arms to all you, and I hope you will enjoy the 38th annual Kissimmee Women's Beauty Pageant!" The audience went wild with applause and cheers. "Now if I may, I'd like to introduce you to our judges." He waved an arm behind me, then slid to the right so the audience members could see the people seated behind a long mahogany table. "Kathy Elsen! Alyssa Benton! Hailee Cougress! Our male judge, Jackson Thorax! And our celebrity judge..." He cocked his head toward someone in the wings, and apparently received the go-ahead, because he roared, with the only real emotion he'd demonstrated the entire time, "Abigail Boyd!"

The brunette actress skipped onto the stage. She was wearing a dark denim Miu Miu miniskirt with a baby-blue lace tank and a gray knit pullover from Charlotte Russe. "Hey, I'm Abby Boyd!" she chirped, sounding like she was on Disney Channel. "It's an honor to be invited to judge the famed Kissimmee Pageant at such a young age! I feel like it was only yesterday that I was standing in diapers and pull-ups, annoucing to anyone and everyone that I was going to be an actress. Well, now I am, and now I can help another girl do exactly the same thing. I am extraordinarily pleased to tell you all that I am going to pick one lucky girl from each age group to learn from me, sort of like a tutor. And at the end, they will all be given a role in a movie!"

The spectators erupted into screams and clapping. Claire rolled her eyes. "Gawd, she is such a fake."

"Be nice. She seems like a very enterprising young lady."

Claire blinked at her mother in disbelief. "Mom, she's nawt an "enterprising young lady." That's Abby Boyd!"

"She can't be that famous. I've never heard of her. The only people I know are Selena and Demi. Oh, and that nice on, Miley, right? Or is her name Hannah?"

"Ehmagawd, Mom." Claire buried her face in her hands. "Stawp talking about them like you know them. It's _wierd_."

"You're wierd," Judi said playfully. "I wonder what category they'll do first."

Her inquiry was answered when the gay man shouted, "First up will be ages 10 to 12 swimsuits! Three girls will perform at a time."

"I love this part!" Judi bounced in her seat, slapping her heads together like a demented seal.

'Oh Gawd,' Claire thought as she saw the first girl parade out in an orange bandeau with a white clasp. The bottom was white with orange polka-dots. The outfit was complete with orange wedge flip-flops and a huge white Scrunchie. It set off her cinammon-colored skin and matching glittery eyes. It was Sari.

On the left of her was a girl with a dirty-blonde ponytail and strikingly blue eyes. Her skin was tan, as per her Orlandian backgound. She had on a turquoise one-piece and silver heels with black eyeliner and heavy blush. Too much. Just like Mandy always did.

On the right of Sari was a girl with short curls and trendy Dior glasses, the only part about her that was remotely cool. She had on a faded brown bikini that my or may not have been ripped intentionally. Her hair was piled on top of her head with extensions. Sarah.

All three of her prior best friends had their arms around each other. On their faces were blinding, genuine smiles, which told her more than words ever could.

Clearly, they didn't miss Claire. They hadn't needed her when she went to Westchester, and they didn't need her now. And she knew why. They never had.

"Do those girls seem familiar?" Mrs. Lyons cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes for a second before focusing on their made-up faces.

Claire thanked her lucky stars they were wearing pounds of makeup, especially Mandy, the most easily recognizable. "Nah, Mom. We might have just seen them around town."

"You're probably right," agreed Judi with a smile. "I'm glad you're enjoying this. But why didn't you bring your friends?"

"Because..."

Because they didn't need her now, and they never had. Obviously.


	10. Meet and Greet

**WESTCHESTER THEATER  
OFFICE  
5:02 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

Cautiously, Alicia knocked on the door, then let herself in. Sitting at a prominent mahogany desk was a husky man with unruly dark hair and a walrus mustache that he was twirling absentmindedly while studying a headshot. Of herself, she realized as she approached.

"You're late," the man informed her as she came closer.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. She would _not _screw this up. No matter how much his attitude bothered her. She lifted her hand toward his. "I'm Alicia Rivera."

He raised his shoulder a fraction. "And I'm in a cast. I broke my arm a few weeks ago in a nasty fall, so I can't shake. I can do it the lefty way if you'd like."

She shrugged. "It's okay."

Looking up, he noticed she was hovering over the chair. "Oh, take a seat!" he urged, steepling his fingers and leaning his chin on them. "My name is Mr. Meyers," he said, handing over a business card. "I specialize in ballet, modern, and character dancing. I presume I am your first meeting?" She nodded. "Then I am to inform you of how this works. I give you a packet of looseleaf paper. You write my name at the top. Then you take notes: on me, on this meeting, on what I tell you, whatever you want. At the end, you give me a rating out of ten. Clearly, one is the worst, ten is the best. I also give you a rating. All through the day of Tuesday, July 10, you have meetings with anyone who _you _rated six or over and _we_ rated eight or over. For example, if you rate me a four, but I rate you a nine, we don't meet. If I rate you a four, and you rate me a nine, we still don't meet. If you rate me a seven, and I rate you a ten, then we meet. Don't worry; you will turn in your packet later and we will turn in ours, and your dance coach will take care of sending you e-mails so you know about your meetings. Also, when someone asks you a question at any of these meetings, you answer the question. You don't elaborate, you don't explain, not unless you're asked to. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." She pinched a pen sticking out of a glass container with the pads of her fingers and raised her eyebrows.

"Yup, you may certainly use that. And you may bring it with you to your other meetings."

She scribbled something onto her paper under his name, and Mr. Meyers grinned, betting it was good. "So, Alicia, you are 11 years old?"

"12," she corrected. "My birthday is June 8."

"2002?" She nodded. "Oh, okay." He scribbled something out and wrote in red pen over it. "Okay," he repeated. "Now. How long have you done dance?"

"Since I was four," she replied.

"Anything other than modern?"

"I started with ballet, went onto pointe when I was eight, then added jazz until I was almost ten. Then I quit both and moved onto modern and crew, mostly modern, but I still do ballet classes once in a while for fun."

"Okay." He wrote something down with a frown. "Do you have siblings, and do any of them do dance?"

"Yes... and no. I have a younger sister and brother who are twins, and actually they were born only two days ago. So they do not dance, although I'm hoping at least the sister follows in my footsteps." She snickered mentally at her own attempt at humor.

"How is your mother now?" Mr. Meyers inquired.

"She's doing well, and so are the twins, thanks."

He nodded deeply. "Tell her she has my congratulations."

"Thank you. I will." She was trying her hardest to be as polite as possible. She would _not_ mess something up with someone who had potential to help her get her dream job.

But then the question she knew was coming came.

"Have you ever captained or co-captained?"

"No, sir. Nawt unless you count having the lead in the school musical in third grade." She made a face.

"I take it you were forced?"

"Yes, sir."

He laughed. "Alright, Miss Alicia, this meeting is over." And without giving a clue to his rating of her, he smiled and reached over, with his left hand, to shake hers. She accepted.

**KISSIMMEE PAGEANT  
FRONT ROW  
5:11 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Is swimsuit always this long?" Claire moaned, popping a red Tropical Skittle into her mouth. It was her third bag of the night, but hey, she had the whole BJ's-size box of them, and no one else was interested in eating her snacks.

"You used to love swimsuit," Judi chided. "Come on, kiddo, what's wrong? You can tell me."

Todd leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his sister's ear. "Yeah, Claire, you can tell us." He swooned up close and puckered his lips, blinking. He looked like a dying fish.

"Cuz I'm really going to say _anything_ with that creep running around." She flicked Todd on the skull, hard enough that they would have heard it if the noise from the crowd wasn't so loud.

"That's not nice, Claire." Judi sighed. "And honestly, what's wrong with swimsuit? At least tell me that."

Claire couldn't tell her that either. Because truly, the bathing garments the girls on stage (including Abby Boyd, even though she was judging) were sporting, along with huge smiles and gigantic Cole Haan and Louis Vuitton sunglasses, reminded her of how much fun she used to have in Florida. But if she told Mrs. Lyons _that, _then she'd also have to explain why she wasn't _having _fun anymore. Then she'd have to explain why. Then she'd end up crying. And then Todd would take a video and post it on YouTube. "I guess it's cuz they look so thin and I'm so fat," she told her. Anything was better than the truth.

"Oh, sweetie, you're not fat!" Although she was trying to look sympathetic, anyone could tell she was delighted that she had gotten to the heart of the problem. "Look, I'm fat." Judi jiggled her arm to prove that she had flab. Then she pinched her stomach.

"Why don't you do Pilates with Kendra, then?" Claire snapped. "She even has a personal trainer, and she's offered it up a billion times. Just take her up awn it! Have you _seen_ her stomach? It's like this." She lifted her shirt a fragment, just up to right above her belly-button, and sucked her stomach in so much she looked emaciated. "_And_ she has abs. Like, better abs than her husband. And Mass has them from doing Pilates too."

"How would you know about any of the Blocks' abs?" Judi inquired, a smile tilting up the corners of her mouth.

"Kendra I know because she comes swimming with us sometimes, and she wears a bikini."

"She wears a _bikini_?" Judi squawked. "How old is that woman?"

"I dunno... Maybe..." She tapped her chin, trying to recall what Massie had told her. "Probably around 39 or so."

"Oh. Well that explains it." Judi was sour. "And of course she takes Botox."

"And I know what Massie's abs look like because she also swims in bikinis. Plus, we awl change in one room when we have sleepovers. Except Alicia. She hates her boobs."

"You look at each other _changing_?" Judi furrowed her brow.

"No! But you just _know_ these things, Mom."

"Here's the one I'm interested in: how do you know about _William's_ abs?"

"Oh, I don't," Claire assured her quickly. "I'm just guessing."

Judi shook her head and ran a hand through her frizzy locks and spontaneously changed the subject. "I don't even know what color my hair is these days-I go to the hairdresser too much."

"Maybe blonde, or auburn. I don't really know, Mom. I don't care."

"Don't be like that. Look, I'm trying to distract you, but clearly you're just worried about whatever it is that's bothering you. So why don't you tell me?"

"Cuz of him!" she exclaimed, pointing to her brother. Really, she had no intention of telling her mother, whether Todd was there or not, but it was a good reason. And it wasn't like they were going to go somewhere without him right in the middle of the pageant.

"I have to pee!" her brother suddenly whined desperately.

"Oh God." Judi jumped up. "This is when it stinks being in the middle. Claire, will you be okay sitting here by yourself? You know not to move, or people will take our seats, and you know how to get back to the hotel in a cab if you get lost, or we get lost, right?"

"Duh, Mom. It's the Hilton in Orlando, right by Disney. I'm sure _someone_ in this vast crowd of people can take me there."

"You don't ask "someone" unless you recognize them or if it's a woman with kids. Understood?"

"Uh-huh." She sat tight in her seat. A spring inside her was coiling up, although she didn't realize it. But the second her mom was out of sight, she sprang up. She fought her way through the crowd until she arrived at the backstage entrance. Usually, there was a security guard. Right now, there was no one. She took it as an omen and let herself inside.

**FRANCE  
AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE  
11:02 AM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"_And can you feel this magic in the air? It must have been the way you kissed me. I fell in love when I saw you standing there. It must have been the way... today was a fairytale. It must have been the way... today was a fairytale._" The lyrics of her old favorite song made her smile as she brushed her wavy chestnut hair off her face. Every other second, she would scorn herself for singing Taylor Swift. Then her heart would remind her. Alex Carson. Oh my God. Alex Carson.

To say her infatuation was bad was an understatement. Massie Block was obsessed in every sense of the word.

The way he'd smiled, and the way she'd gotten the nerve to push a soft clump of brown hair off his forehead. The way they'd talked for exactly two hours and four minutes before she'd _had_ to go.

Whenever she thought about any of it, her heart skipped a beat. Or two.

**NEW CHALET NEIGHBORHOOD  
PARKING LOT  
6:07 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"I just can't figure out which house is theirs," Ms. Miller muttered, tucking a blonde lock of hair behind her ear.

Kristen looked around at the confusing house numbers. 102, 108, 210, 381, 382. And they were all right next to each other. What the _heck_? Then she did a double-take. "Hold awn... I think I get it. She said her house was 216, so we want to go that way." She pointed in front of them, where the road curved left. "These are townhouses condos. One is right awn top of the other; that's why everything's screwed up. She doesn't live in one of these, Mom. She lives down the street, in those cottages."

"Oh." She pressed lightly on the gas and coasted the car around the bend, then stopped. "You mean to the right?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I think so." She squinted, trying to see what kind of houses they were. "Alright, well, try it, I guess."

"You know, I'm not so sure I want you to sleep over here if I can't easily find the house. What if it's dark and there's an emergency and I can't get to you? And it's your first time there too."

"I know, but-" She clamped her mouth shut. She'd almost told her mother _why _she was sleeping over. She and Layne were going to watch a huge mathetmatical bee extremely early the next morning, and Kristen knew her mother would never let her go in a million years, not all the way to southern New Jersey. So she'd begged permission for a slumber party. And what her mom didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "I really want to."

"Well, if I don't find it in the next minute..."

Kristen let out an agitated breath. "There is it!" she sqealed, bobbing in her seat. "There!"

"Where?" Gripping the wheel, she whipped the Subaru into a parking space. "Ha. You were right. 216. It's right here. I wonder why the GPS didn't work on these back roads."

"Me too." Kristen shrugged and grabbed her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder. It was an old gray and pink gym bag, one she'd never used when staying at Massie's or with another member of the Pretty Committee, but with Layne, anything was fine. "Are you coming in?" she asked her mother.

"Of course! I have to meet her parents before I let you stay here."

"Well, her dad's nawt here tonight. He's staying at a hotel near his office in Brooklyn."

"Oh." Marsha relaxed. "Well, I'd still like to say hi to her mother."

"Okay." Kristen led the way up to the gravel path toward the small residence that was number 216. She rang the doorbell, and then stepped back, because this was the only front door she'd ever seen that opened outwards. In a couple of seconds, full of fidgeting and exchanging glances with her mother, it was clear no one was coming to answer their call. She rang again, pressing hard with the pad of her index finger. They were once again ignored.

"Come on, Kristen." Her mother shook her head. "This seems wierd. I'll take you home and we can try again some other time."

"Hold awn." She wasn't giving up this easily. "Let's wait five minutes."

"Okay, but no more ringing. If they're in the bathroom or something, they'll think you very rude."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatevs." She settled onto the wooden bench by the doorway, leaning on the black metal arms. Then she noticed something. "Their car's here," she pointed out, narrowing her eyes. "I wonder..."

Then an Audi rolled in. Immediately, Layne's head stuck out. "I am so sorry! There was a huge line at-" she leaned back in to hear something someone was saying to her. Then she hopped out, grabbed three bags of groceries from the trunk, and sprinted toward Kristen "-there was a huge line at the supermarket, and then that red light off Route 6 broke down, so they had to get people to fix it, and it took, like, 45 minutes, and we were the third car in line so we couldn't go back and take the detour by Stony like the people in the back could and... ugh."

Marsha pulled her daughter aside. "She seems a little, er, _ruffled_. Can I hazard a guess she isn't part of Massie's group?

"You can," Kristen said stiffly and sourly. "But I'd think you were the last person who would have the opinion that looks matter more than personality."

"I'm not saying that, but-"

"I'm just going to bring these inside," Layne announced, producing a key from the pocket of her baggy jeans. With it came two squashed jelly-beans and a feather. "Oh, I forgot I had these!" she exclaimed, popping them in her mouth. The feather she removed from the mess carefully and tucked it into the wreath hanging on the front door. Then she strolled inside. "See you in a minute, Kris!" she called over her shoulder.

"Oh my." Her mom blushed. "I don't know if this is the best-"

"Just meet her mother," pleaded Kristen. "She's _so _nice."

And sure enough, a woman with ebony hair that matched Layne's (although it was combed a lot neater), black velour track pants, and a red sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up, had just gotten out of the driver's seat. She, too, grabbed some plastic bags, and then marched up toward them.

Automatically and instantly, Marsha turned polite. "Hi, I'm Marsha Miller, and this is my daughter, Kristen Gregory. We can't help you carry anything, can we?"

"No, no, it's fine," she assured them, sticking out a hand. Her wrist was covered in bracelets, from I Heart Boobies rubber ones for breast cancer to knotted ones that looked like friendship bracelets (but what grown woman wore friendship bracelets?), to real ones that looked like they could be diamond. "I'm Missy Abeley. Nice to meet you. And hi, Kristen, it's great to see you again."

"You too."

"Anyway, my husband would be here to meet you, but he's in the city for his job." She sighed as she led the Gregorys into the house. "If you don't mind, could you leave your shoes at the front? It's hard work cleaning dirt and mud off the carpets."

Marsha slipped off her ballet flats and rubbed at her feet. Today had been a tough day at Cafe Salsa.

Kristen hooked _her_ white patent leather by Jimmy Choo ballet flats on her finger before gently sliding them to the floor. Then she followed Mrs. Abeley into the living room. "So here we are, the heart of the place. Living room, obviously. We have a tiny den off behind that door. In there is the master bedroom, over there is our son's room. And there's Layne's. She's probably waiting for you, Kristen."

She took that as a sign to take off, so she walked toward her friend's door. As she was about to knock, Layne pulled it open and almost slammed into her. "Oh, sorry, I was just going to look for you." She stepped grandly aside. "Come on in."

Surprisingly, her room was clean, with the bunk beds neatly made and her organized desk pushed against the stretch of wall underneath a window, where the sun still shone. "The mom made me do it for you, since it's your first visit and all. Don't expect it." She laughed.

"I wasn't even expecting it this time." Kristen winced, thinking of Layne's locker at school. There was a pile of papers just sitting there, taking up half of the five-foot space, and on top of that she plopped her binders, and on top of _those_ her independent reading books, and on top of _those_, her daily snack, which could be anything from piping hot, it-smells-to-heaven oatmeal to mustard-covered popcorn kernels.

Layne smirked. "Must seem different than Massie and Alicia and Dylan's houses, ey?"

"It's kind of a welcome change, actually. I feel so... insecure and stuff there. Like, just cuz I'm middle-class they call it poor. Here I feel like I belong. Seriously. I mean, their houses aren't even _houses_. They're estates and mansions and manors and the ridiculous amount of money they give their combined staff is enough to pay off the debts of every Third World country awn the Earth."

"So why are you friends with them?"

"Cuz I like them, they like me, that makes us friends. And it's great hanging out with them. It's just that the places where they live are a little imposing. That's why I liked having our Friday Night Sleepovers in the guesthouse where Kuh-laire lives, cuz it was a little closer to normal. But Mass moved them to her bedroom." She stuck out her tongue. "Although speaking of staff, her chef makes _the best_ sushi. And he does it by hand."

Layne whistled. "God, I should be part of the Pretty Committee." She grinned. "But if I may just point something out: I like Josh Hotz, that hot Spanish kid who plays forward on the Tomahawks. Even if he liked me, we could never be a couple."

"But he doesn't like you. And I know: he's going out with Leesh."

"But that's not the point! If he did-"

The door opened, and Marsha poked her head in. "Bye, Kristen, I'm leaving. I'll be picking you up at 1:00 tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

"Mo-om!" she shrieked, mortified. "You have to knock! This isn't your house!"

"I'm sorry. I don't think Layne minded. Bye, now. Hug, Kristen?"

Hurriedly, she performed the requested act and sat back down again on the floor, nudging the door closed with her foot. "Anyway, Layne?"

"If he _did _like me, that wouldn't just make us a couple. So just because you like them and they like you, you don't have to be friends."

"Well, I _want_ to be friends with them," she scowled. "And your completely hypothetical Josh situation is different. You could never be a couple."

"And why not?" Layne raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Because he doesn't like you!"

"What if he _did_, though? _Then_ could we be a couple?"

"No."

"_Why?_"

"Cuz..."

"Because I'm making you think about the social heirarchy of OCD, that's why! And you can't handle it! Because you _know_ you're popular!"

"That's not why!" she argued. "But it is true. Josh is hawt and nice and uber-good at soccer and cool. And you're... you. No offense, Layne."

"Don't worry. I _try_ to challenge the system. But don't you agree with me?"

"About the social heirarchy? Sure, Layne."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll give up. You don't get it like my other friends."

Kristen let that one slide. "Let's talk about something else. Did you do your summer reading?"

Layne sniggered. "That's your idea of "something else?"

"Fine! _You_ suggest something!"

"I want to talk about the social he-"

"Give _up_, Layne!"

**KISSIMMEE PAGEANT  
BATHROOMS  
6:38 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

"Ehmagawd," Claire sob-whispered to no one. "Ehmagawd." She couldn't believe what had just happened. She had to tell somebody. Massie, preferably. But her phone didn't text or call internationally. Who was the next best? Layne. But she'd been ordered to ditch her. The other members of the Pretty Committee would kill her if they found out she'd been hanging out with _Layme_. She sighed. Kristen.

Deftly, she scrolled through her contacts and selected the Delta's name. It rang, and rang, and rang, and then went to voice-mail. Great. Her cell was off.

Alicia or Dylan? She wasn't particularly friends with either of them.

Alicia was cool, aloof, and would never admit to having friendship problems. Plus, she looked at Claire as though she were an LBR third-grader. No. She wasn't an option.

That left Dylan. She was bubbly and fun, but she also had the born-and-bred-elite personality built into her. She wouldn't solve this problem for Claire.

Or she could borrow her mother's phone and talk to Massie. But that involved explaining just what was going on. Because Judi would definitely ask why she had been crying, and why she wanted to talk to Massie. And she knew she couldn't talk to her mom about this. Not now, not ever.

Layne really was her only choice. She couldn't help grinning in spite of herself. It always came down to the true friend. Hesitantly, she dialed her number.

Layne picked up on the third ring. There was some scuffling, then a voice said, "Claire?"

"Layne! Hi!"

"What?"

"Hi!"

"No, I heard you. What do you want?"

"I'm-I'm-" And she broke down, crying hysterically.

"Do you want to talk to Kristen?"

"What?" She couldn't have heard her right.

"Do you want to talk to Kristen?"

"Why? Is Kristen with you?"

"Yeah, but her cell's dead. Here, I'll pass you over." There was a bang and a squeal, and then Kristen spoke.

"Kuh-laire? What's wrong?"

"I'm... MandyandSarahandSariditchedmecuztheythinkI'vechang ed. TheythinkI'mlikeyoubutI'mnawtlikeyou. ImeanIamlikeyoubutinagoodwayandIdon'tknowwhytheyha temeforit."

"Whoa. Slow down. Pause. Rewind. Play. Slower."

"Mandy and Sarah and Sari ditched me cuz they think I've changed. They think I'm like you but I'm nawt like you. Nawt you particularly but the entire Pretty Committee. And I mean I am like you guys but in a good way and I can't figure out why they hate me now. Can you tell me?"

She sounded so pitiful that Kristen wished she could teleport herself to Florida and give Claire a solid shoulder to cry on. "They probably think you're snobby."

"But... but am I?"

"Nawt compared to the rest of us. Look, moving to Westchester, you had to change. So you adapted. It's what we do best."

"I told them that."

"Well, if they didn't listen, they're nawt very good friends."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah." She braced herself.

"What are you doing with Layne? I thought she was awf-limits. I thought she was an LBR."

"Just between us." Kristen dropped her voice to a whisper, although the only person within hearing distance of either of them was the girl they were speaking of. "I still like her."

"Hey." Claire grinned. "I like her too."

**WANG HOUSE  
DYLAN'S ROOM  
7:27 PM  
JULY 5, 2013  
**

"Dinner!" Vera hollered in the direction of her goddaughter's room.

"Coming!" Dylan shouted back, climbing off her bed, putting her iPhone 5 down, and strolling toward the kitchen. "Yum, Vera, this smells delicious."

"Thanks." She smiled. "And now I would like you to meet someone. Two people, actually."

Dylan thanked any lucky stars she might have left that first of all, she was wearing high-waisted green Chanel shorts with a gray Burberry top tucked in. A mostly gray Hermes tie she was using as a fashion-forward belt slithered through the loops of the shorts.

And secondly, she now had an excuse not to discuss moving to California and leaving Vera.

Two girls stepped inside. They were older than Dylan, at least in college, probably. Her mind ticked through the possibilities of who they could be. Then she placed them. They were-

"My daughters." Vera waved them closer. "Cecilia."

"Hey." She smiled tightly. "I'm Cecilia. Don't ask how old I am. It's a secret. I don't tell. Anyone."

"I don't even remember," joked Vera. "And this one's Josephine."

"_I'm _17. I don't care if you know. I'm not old like her. And aren't you Dylan Marvil?"

"That's me."

"Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter, yes?" asked Cecilia.

She nodded. "Are you staying for a while?"

Josephine nodded. "We're doing a shoot for Mom." She put an arm around the older woman. "And we're really happy to meet you," she added. "If you're interested in doing the shoot with us, we'd be glad for you to join. It's not lingerie or anything," she explained, noticing Dylan's expression, "it's mostly jeans and there are a couple of sports bras, but Cecilia's agreed to do those. So you're good." She grinned.

Well, this changed things. How could she go to California when Vera Wang's daughters wanted her to do a photo shoot with them? "I'd be happy too."

"It'll be fun," Cecilia chimed in, checking her Blackberry.

Josephine tugged a corner of a gold iPhone out of her pocket. "I've got the 5," she told Dylan. "I don't know why she doesn't upgrade."

"I'm perfectly happy with my phone. When it turns crappy, I'll update."

Josephine smirked affectionally. "Whatever floats your boat." She turned to her mother. "The lasagna smells fantastic." She rubbed her flat belly. "God, it'll make me bloated."

Dylan thought Vera would convince her to eat anyway. She seemed like that kind of mother. So Vera's reply surprised her.

"Don't eat this, then. There are salad ingredients in the fridge. We cannot have a trace of pooch in my ad."

"I know, Mom." She crossed over to the refrigerator and threw it open. "Ugh. You know I hate tomatoes."

"Sorry. I think there might be red onions and tuna somewhere." She began dishing out food. "You girls do want lasagna, right?"

Dylan and Cecilia nodded enthusiastically.

In an effort to make conversation, the redhead decided to say something. "So how long _will_ you guys be here?"

"Three weeks," Cecilia told her. "Actually, I meant to ask you: could we stay in your room? Cuz that used to be ours. You can take the couch for a little while, right?" She flashed a megawatt smile.

How could she say no? "Sure," she agreed graciously. "Of course."

Cecilia shot Josephine a triumphant beam. Her younger sister returned it with a smirk.

"You know," Josephine muttered, "I can't find _any _carrots in here. Can I take the baby ones?" She was mostly asking Dylan, as though she knew (although how could she?) that the baby carrots were Dylan's favorites.

"Sure." She shrugged, and once again, that look passed between Vera Wang's daughters.

Evil step-sister thing much?

**WESTCHESTER THEATER  
OFFICE  
8:08 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

With a sigh of relief, Alicia closed her last meeting and hurried downstairs to give her looseleaf packet to her coach. With a hurried thanks, she ran outside and dialed Alex. "¿Me puede recoger en el Teatro Westchester? ¿Dónde estaba mi recital?"

"Si."

"Gracias." Then Alicia sat down on the stone steps to await her driver. As she did that, she ticked off her meetings in her head. There were a few she'd especially hated, and a few she really liked. But she'd given almost all of them high scores, in case they'd wanted her. She'd never pass up an opportunity, especially if it was going to make her famous.

After a few minutes, when Alex still hadn't shown up, her thoughts turned to Dylan. Just because she was dance captain and hadn't picked her as her alternate didn't mean that they had to be enemies. Plus, Massie would murder her if she came home and her Beta and Gamma were deathly foes. And she'd blame Alicia, because she had the higher Pretty Committe rank. So she texted her.

**HOLAGURRL: Hey Dyl.  
BIGREDHEAD: Can't talk. At dinner. TTYL.**

She had no way of knowing whether she was being ignored, or whether Dylan was actually eating. But then another text buzzed in.

**BIGREDHEAD: K. I'm here. Sry. Vera's daughters r here.  
HOLAGURRL: Vera's daughters? Like, Josephine and Cecilia Wang? OMG, I've wanted 2 meet them since I waz in diapers!  
BIGREDHEAD: U could come over, I guess. But they're in my room, so u'll hav 2 sleep awn the couch w/ me.  
HOLAGURRL: That's fine! I'll be over at 9:00 sharp.  
BIGREDHEAD: I have 2 ask first...OK, she said u can come over. And watch the shoot 2morrow, if ur quiet.  
HOLAGURRL: Definitely. I'll be there.**

**WANG HOUSE  
FRONT PORCH  
9:01 PM  
JULY 5, 2013**

Dylan answered the door.

"Ehmagawd. I was so excited I couldn't even be fashionably late!" For Alicia, that was huge. She was jumping up and down so hard, her boobs were bouncing out of her bra.

The redhead grinned. "They're _so _nice," she gushed. "Like, I'm nawt even kidding." She began to go inside.

"Wait! Rate me!"

"Okay. Miss Alicia Rivera is wearing a white pique eyelet summer dress with spaghetti straps and a loose, pleated skirt. Her hair is in a deep side-part with loose ringlets. In her ears are pink diamond earrings that match her lip gloss, eyeshadow, and blush. She also has a matching ring and necklace. Awn her feet are thin pink Victoria's Secret flip-flops. 9.5."

"What would make me higher?"

"Rub in that blush a little more. And your foundation's a little blotchy. You need a personal stylist."

"Mom's working awn it. Better?"

"Much. Come awn."

As they walked in, they were bombarded. First was Alicia, with a hug from Vera. "I've heard about you," she said, although the Beta couldn't figure out whether it a compliment or an insult. "It's nice to meet you."

Alicia brushed hair out of her eyes. "Thanks." She smiled shyly and turned to the sisters. "I've been looking forward to seeing you," she told them.

"Great," Cecilia said happily, looking her up and down. "I like your dress..."

"Alicia," she supplied.

"Alicia," Cecilia finished, reaching out to shake her hand.

The beauty took it and fought back a squeal. After a fast exchange with Josephine, Dylan led her into the den. "See? Nice."

Alicia agreed. She'd fallen for their facade, just like everyone else.

But the only two people in the world who knew Cecilia and Josephine's true colors were each other.


End file.
